One and a half years after meeting, the fuck-like-bunnies chemicals are long gone. Now I’ve got the please-stop-irrritating me chemicals.

A google search for “the pain of being trapped” yields these snippets:
the pain of being trapped in a horrible body
the pain of being trapped in loveless, inescapable marriage
the pain of being trapped for hours
the pain of being trapped by these destructive dietary habits!
the pain of being trapped with the locals.
the pain of being trapped in a body and mind that you are not happy with
the pain of being trapped here
the pain of being trapped in a train
the pain of being trapped in one of the creeping one-line traffic knots
the pain of being trapped in ‘otherness’.
the pain of being trapped on the West Coast
the pain of being trapped in that situation until they die
the pain of being trapped inside oneself
the pain of being trapped inside a face and body so beautiful that no one could see past them to the person underneath

The pain of being loved passionately while wanting space for adventure.

I can feel my balls retracting as I sink deeper into domesticity.

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