He can't think of a way to explain. He's never had the words for it. Just rambly outpourings of emotions sometimes when he's permitted them. He told Kitty, and he knew it was true. He just loses.
He loses, and he loses, and he loses. To the point that gaining feels almost pointless because it means he'll lose again, and he can feel those callouses reform around his heart. But how does a man like him, full of anger and frustration and sadness and a happenstance education even put those into words.
"I'm used to it."
That's what comes out instead of anything else. But losses are hard to accept. That's why he still goes and looks for music for a young man he's pretty sure he'll never see again. He can't bring himself to explain how terrified he is of giving a shit just because of the pain that comes after. So what he says instead is, "What was that song you was dancin' to?"
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He loses, and he loses, and he loses. To the point that gaining feels almost pointless because it means he'll lose again, and he can feel those callouses reform around his heart. But how does a man like him, full of anger and frustration and sadness and a happenstance education even put those into words.
"I'm used to it."
That's what comes out instead of anything else. But losses are hard to accept. That's why he still goes and looks for music for a young man he's pretty sure he'll never see again. He can't bring himself to explain how terrified he is of giving a shit just because of the pain that comes after. So what he says instead is, "What was that song you was dancin' to?"