I have to go on a run and clear my head. I'm turning a year older soon. There are so many things to do, places to go, things and people to be shed and keep. And the list never shortens, does it?
Fundamental questions still plague my mind: Who am I? Is this what I like? Or what you like? Did I ever like this to begin with? Or was this something I liked because I liked you? My limb hasn't fully grown since you've torn it away. Though I don't notice it as much anymore as I used to. Time eventually ground my bleeding wound into flesh. I don't even think about it there anymore. Sometimes, I'll remember, and I'll get a strange tingling feeling where it used to be, where you used to be.
Fundamental questions still plague my mind: Who am I? Is this what I like? Or what you like? Did I ever like this to begin with? Or was this something I liked because I liked you? My limb hasn't fully grown since you've torn it away. Though I don't notice it as much anymore as I used to. Time eventually ground my bleeding wound into flesh. I don't even think about it there anymore. Sometimes, I'll remember, and I'll get a strange tingling feeling where it used to be, where you used to be.
Last year was the hardest. I don't know if I can let myself feel so vulnerable again.
But I'm in a better place, and that's all I have to remember. That's all I have to feel.
But I'm in a better place, and that's all I have to remember. That's all I have to feel.
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