Result of my missing is a long decent of my own intuition. These regrets and
decisions that only the fondness for sadness pulls out of me. My head hurts, I
feel sick and every inch of my body sinks into the floor. The headaches, the
long lost thirst is just carried on from repeated days of repeated
misunderstandings. Every word spoken was indirectly a fault of mine. And I, who
am those faults, am stricken down again. Even in my unfortunate youth am I the
depiction of the desperate. Not one of pleading useless causes, but of one that
I felt I could possess but was proven wrong yet again.
Because I am not the one he loves.
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