There's a particular brand of pit that grows in your stomach when you know you're losing control and there's nothing you can do about it. Heavy as granite and moldering... It's the way we're built I suppose. A natural reaction to the unstoppable spin of the earth below. Forever trying to wrest control of life, love, work, and home. And when we can't get control there, we'll fight for it wherever we can. As if we think we could stop the world from spinning just by being mad.
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