Fight Club

You look for an exit, whether through the trees or the sea of people, or even from the prison of your body. 

You can’t find one, so you choose to fight. Them, the situation, everything you hate, and even yourself. 

You hope you’re dreaming, that you’ll wake up in your bed, safe and sound. 

But you know you aren’t. 

Thanksgiving is always a battlefield. 

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