The more she says she likes me the more I despise myself. As this customary notion of pleasant feelings usually becomes followed up by a staggering episode of tears and scorn. Yes, I adore the moments I can claim peace, but seeing as though I’m undeserving of such treatment, I ponder when the bridge will come crumbling down... due to my own fallacies of course.
I’ve led a lot of my young life one fuck up to the next. Allowing some time to casually forgive myself and loathe others, yet as derailed as my soul ends up, I still find myself compelled to inquire about bad habits. Almost as if testing my patience and resistance is not enough already, I open doors I have closed shut.
Well, a bad habit in itself was returning home. The absence of forward progress has diluted my mind.
**don't associate yourself with this**
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