There are a few who envy me. They want to know what they have to do to get my job, to be who I am. “It’s only death, how hard can it be?” Here, I silently reply, take it all. Every festering remnant of the people no one cared about in life, much less in death; all the broken children who will never know that I had grieved for them. Take it all. Just leave me my car keys so I can go home permanently. Someone else can listen to the bullshit Death loves to spew. He never shuts up.
-Joseph Scott Morgan
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