COMFORT ZONE
i. The unsent text, quietly residing in your drafts. The one you send only in your daydreams.
ii. The smoke, wafting over your half-crippled lungs. The one which you promise to quit tomorrow, just not right away. So you give in to that one last drag, for the forty ninth time.
iii. The silence, created not by the lack of words, but the fear of judgement. The one which is lately your only resort.
iv. The person, who has now started getting the better of you. The one you can't stop going to, every single night.
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