White Walls

Impact is the most painful thing ever. It’s like nothing can compare. Whether it be the moment of impact when your car collides with another and massive bags of air explode out. It’s that bottle of liquor you’ve purchased for what seems like the fiftieth time this week, being thrown against the painting your ex husband created for you hanging on the wall. Or maybe, impact is instant pain shooting into your heart when you’ve just collapsed onto your knees. I’m there, taking in the horrifying scene around me as the impact of that pain coursing through me has reverberated through my body. What were once clean white walls have been painted with the blood of the one who was the best friend I could have ever asked for. The best friend who would take me on late night car rides to secretly smoke peach cigars, was now all over her own clean white walls

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