A tug of war is what it feels. As I am sitting here on my bed wide awake at 5 in the morning, silence is what I hear. A nagging discomfort to my left shoulder is keeping me awake. A nagging discomfort to the soul is keeping me restless. Looking for comfort and sustainance in the Others' words. Or at least if they cannot be of comfort. That they would not add more gasoline to the fire. Because let's face it: that fire is always there isn't it. Fire, heat from the friction of the inside rubbing against the outside. The desire against the frustration. Don't they say diamonds are made out of pressure? Just how long the pressure needs to go for. And for each facet of the diamond, does it need to be just as long?
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