Truth.

You are expected to be graceful.

Always.

You are expected to keep silent your trauma, your stressors, your inability to cope with the amazing life you’re constructing. You are expected to smile, to constantly smile; to truthfully be, OK.

You focus on the positive and convince yourself ‘this too shall pass,’ all the skittering darkness. But you know, those angry things, the, blind terror and irritable ideas…they always come back if not laid to rest.

You’re expected to get over it, and move on, letting your hauntings fade into the veil. Those ghosts, reverent and persistent , you quell them with self proclaimed logic and convince yourself, they’re not real. They howl and scrape, terrify you, but remember, they’re not real, right?

And you’re expected to dance, to create magic and be present and to do right by all. To be grateful, to love and cherish and hold on to your beautiful, fallible memories; to strangers and to causes.

If truth is an entity devoid of fact or fiction, then wouldn’t it all be subject to its justice?

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