Venting death is a good playtime

[Lavínia]

a set scenario. I maintain cohesive expressions, behavior and mentality, yes, cohesive. My ex died, committed suicide. Conclusion. A narrative that consolidates, shakes, moves us. I imagined my ex dying so many times, having an end. I imagined myself dying so many times, and what he would think. Love only has conclusion, eternity and security, when the other party is dead. A love that never ended, never had a chance. It doesn't run out, doesn't get hurt, isn't forgotten. My ex didn't die, I didn't die, yet. And it's over. My love didn't, but it's over, his, ours. Something. Death does these things, I always confuse its weight. Disharmonious. I have obligations, work, worries... death turns everything to dust. Someone special died, another weight, what does it matter if the client doesn't fucking know how to open Google. Agony growing, the wires rising, obviously I would think about my ex dying, a reason to disconnect. Obviously I would think about myself dying, agitation.