Silence. Empty. He told himself a million times he shud’nt have done this. Not alone. The TV now seemed like a life line. Each time the show stopped and silence filled the room like a black ink, He could hear his heartbeat. Each time the screen paused, he could hear the air, the droplets from the leaky pipe. Each time he heard these voices, sound from of silence, he kept asking why did he do this alone. He had to. It was not a trip. It was running away. To be as far as he could from the blind pain that tortured him. To hear how people thought him being alone was ok, and she being with someone else was really important. For once he pleaded if he had someone to hold on. To hug. To hold. To cry on. The thought that it’s going to be empty tiny room. 


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