Broken Town

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They say we should pray for serenity to accept the things in life that we can’t change.
Then they tell us we should also ask for courage. Courage to change what we may.

Well in 19 years I’ve learned one thing: we need a lot more serenity than we do courage.

So I’ll go to the same restaurants, eat the same food, hold on to the same people. This might make me a control freak, but I relish the fact that I have some sort of hand in making sure that some things don’t change.
Because life has made me listen; it has made me learn the lesson that we have plenty of opportunities to accept change, and very slim opportunities to bask in any form of consistency.


I couldn’t sleep. My chest burned. I could feel my heart beat in my throat, and it made me nauseous. My collar bones felt too heavy, my skin felt too tight and uncomfortable.

And I remembered long nights spent driving up and down back roads without any intention of actually going anywhere, talking about first kisses, college, and what kind of parents we hoped to be.

So this is what it felt like to be wrong.
This is what it felt like to have put trust in a clouded hope that it was all just a messy misunderstanding; to have believed you could just go right back to movie nights and late night drives in the middle of no where and empty gravel parking lots where you ate his favorite ice cream right from the tub and the only space there was between you two could easy be filled with cigar smoke.

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