Once you get accustomed to something, it gets easier to live with it. I can almost see that dark, decrepit muck living inside me, at the pit of my stomach, deeply rooted.
He just stays there. Most days he just languishes, permeating into the inner bowels of what he touches. Almost seems to be ignoring me. Neither happy nor sad. Some days I even get to forget he's there. But then I remember.
I remember I can always free him. That I can open myself up, let him go. Then I'd be free too.
