Dark Nights With The Mafia

I'm always by myself.At least, that's what it looks like to me.Most of the time, people say that sadness is empty. Nothing but a total and complete absence of everything. They're wrong, though. Grief fills up. It's heavy as hell. It's not a hole you have to fill; it's a load you have to carry.Something you need to bring with you everywhere. A burden that sometimes makes it feel like you can't even breathe.It's hard to get enough air.A constant reminder of what you won't have anymore in the future. How you used to imagine your life would be.People who think things will get better. whoever said "time heals" was right. Everyone is lying. That's not true at all. All that happens is that you have to wait longer between times when you miss them. When you miss them again, it hurts to think about them.It hurts worse than anything. Even so, I haven't been through one.As soon as the pain of missing them goes away, guilt starts to set in. When you realize you haven't missed someone in a

I don't know how long I've been here, but it feels like I've been here for hours and hours. Who knows, maybe even days.I don't remember how I got here or what happened after those men broke into my apartment. I only remember them putting me in a corner in my living room, and then everything went dark.After I fell asleep, I woke up here. Even though I don't know where this place is. I'm in a room with a small window and a hanging light that looks like it's been there through every single world war. The strange men around me sound like they have Italian accents.The sound of the door opening again pulls me out of my thoughts, and I look over to see the same man walk in again. He has two small cups in each hand and is nodding to the man standing against the wall next to me.He walks over and picks up a chair, unfolds it so the man can sit on it, and puts it right in front of me.I keep looking at him as he sits down, putting one of the cups on the floor by his foot and holding the othe