‘It might help you,’ Alexia said. ‘I appreciate it Jay, I do. But they’d just be words. Inside me . . . right now inside me is everything. I can feel it there, buried and wanting out. Sometimes it . . . it rages. It wails. It tries to tear itself apart. Sometimes it feels like a beast, and sometimes it feels like a bubbling volcano, boiling and acidic, all grief and anger. But it can’t ever leave. Not just because I don’t want it to, but because it can’t. Words are so pathetic in comparison. They are such small, weak things. They could never in any way give form to what’s inside, they can only
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