Don't try and fix me, I'm not broken…
It was the sentence he wanted to scream. To get them to understand.
He wasn't broken, he was dying. Death was a part of life. Something that everyone was a step closer to every day.
He had gotten used to that over the years.
Gotten used to the loss.
Gotten used to the pain, the sorrow, the total and utter numbness…
But somewhere he'd lost that numbness. Somewhere along the lines the color had returned to his otherwise black and white existence.
And because of that, all he could do was nod.