Only Magic

All those promises, closure, fulfilment, healing, better days — all the things that never arrive.

I’ve sat through the sessions, I’ve had the conversations until I lost my own mind, and still there’s nothing in the end. The world stays absurd, people keep pretending to care, and the struggle never changes its shape.

So I’ve stopped dealing in their currency. I don’t fuck with their peace, I don’t fuck with their lies, I don’t fuck with the illusion of “getting better.” If there’s anything left to trust, it’s Magic.

This isn’t hope. This isn’t belief. Probably the only thing that makes this unbearable place feel less cruel, if only for a second.