When things officially become a fact. They are often surreal, seared into the brain as if by a branding iron.
I just. I've never really thought myself worth tears of anything more than disappointment and frustration.
I'm holding onto things so tightly right now. There's only a year left. I mean. What?
I let go of you though, oddly enough. I realized that last night. (Your hair is pretty.)
summer. summer. summer. summer. summer. summer. summer.
summer?
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