My Other Half

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Alone on the rooftop with Jon Hopkins' Cold Out There on repeat, I stare at the spiraling glow of the cigarette slowly eating its way to the filter. The never-ending, nagging question presents itself again: Why are you doing this? 

Because it makes me handle the loneliness. Somehow. 

But there's another way to handle that. 

What? I ask and there's just silence. 

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