Am I slowly beginning to hate the one person who showed me that the world could be a beautiful place? Am I like this because he decorated my world and tore it all down in a span of months? He could've been my something turned everything, so much so that it mildly hurts to type this now. Over-complications were unnecessary, and yet I succumbed.
I still care about you and love you, of course. I just don't know in what context do I do.. Why can't we be in something where context doesn't matter? I love someone. I care about that person. That's all there is to it.
Had he opened.
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