Seems like my ranting's never done.
But oh, you make me sick. So sick. So sick of the inconsistencies. Sick of being down. Of thinking that it was ever worth any of my time. Of the illusions of how sweet things could be. The dissappointments and the ambitions that seem to be nothing more than words. Over and over. And wondering what it was that made me happy in the first place.
I re-read what you said. Remembered for a brief moment how hopeful it had seemed.
Utter nonsense and a freaking waste of time.
Who are you?
I don't know you anymore.
There's this tender part of me that thinks there's always a fix for everything. That no matter how far gone things get, there's always redemption, there's always the possibility of things being mended, made okay again.
This is not okay. It will never be.
Never again.
Stay away.
That's how you chose it. And I guess that's how it should always stay.
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