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Comfort It felt almost as if I was suffocating. The grief, the loss I'd endured
what exactly was I upset about? Why did I feel alone when there were so many to turn to? Why did I feel like I'd lost someone close, when I can barely name five people I'd ever known who'd passed? Why did I feel empty, when I had wealth, friendship, and all the necessities and luxuries I could imagine? Why did I feel the need to be angry and rude, when all anyone had done was lent me kindness? Why was I hurting, without a cause? Not having a reason to be miserable frustrated me even more. I sobbed, and I was without comfort. Sitting there. That is what I did every night. However, this time it was different. It was the middle of the day, no one had called. My family was missing, but it felt good. It felt good to vent. It felt good to ease the beast that clawed the inside of my chest, if only a little. I threw my hands in the air, paced back and forth, b