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"Sometimes happiness feels like a chore."

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A short story chronicling the relationships (and lack thereof) of Drew; in which nights and days are spent curled up in the tear-and-food-stained sheets, with and without the warmth of another living soul, because he has lived like this and he'll probably die like this -- whether he likes it or not.

(As if life ever bothered to ask).

Otherwise known as:

Sleep is for the weak, and love is for those asleep. So Andrew shouldn't wonder why he's virtually a self-induced insomniac who might just very well die of loneliness one day.

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Author's Note:

Yet again this will be one of those stories that won't be everyone's "thing." It'll probably be a whole lot depressing, a few parts cute, but 100% real. So if you like this sort of thing, props to you. If you don't, then I suggest abandon ship, lest you be sorely disappointed. I don't think I've ever read anything that captures how loneliness can truly be, so this is my attempt at it.

And yes, this is Drew from my other story, 5:48. But you don't have to read that or know about him to understand or appreciate this.

This is just a child and his loneliness; a boy and his loneliness; a man and his loneliness -

basically everyone and their loneliness because some days that's all we ever seem to be encompassed of.

But to those who're giving this a try,

much love.

x chloe

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