There's no pushing it out. There's no escaping any of it, the despair, the hopelessness, the grief that should have crushed all of them at this point. It's like some endless cycle that they are chained to. Death, grief, anger, death, grief, anger. He doesn't really know if there is anything else.

"Yeah, anything... at this point would... be better than nothing. It just... doesn't ever stop."

They're all so fucking tired. Why would they be anything but tired?

Exhausted. It's not living. It's surviving, and it sucks.

Jeremy breathes in through that really heavy feeling over his shoulders. He's gotten used to it being there so he doesn't really notice, but sometimes it feels heavier than others. He wants all the violence, all the pain, all the death, all of it to stop for everyone. Tyler, his sister, everyone... it just doesn't stop.

"Yeah, there's just been... a lot of shit. Like always," he says softly, looking down at his arm where the mark is at as he breathes in and then takes a drink of the alcohol. "The shit doesn't ever really stop for anyone either." There's a small but sad smirk as he shakes his head. "At least out here it feels like you're away from a lot of it."

From the town, from the condolence casseroles, from people talking about shit that they don't know like they know.