i still miss her every day.
if i could forget, i would.
i don't think even i, deserve to hurt this much.
..
.
.
.
"I felt like crying but nothing came out. it was just a sort of sad sickness, sick sad, when you can't feel any worse. I think you know it. I think everybody knows it now and then. but I think I have known it pretty often, too often." — Charles Bukowski (Tales of Ordinary Madness)
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