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memory lane i have a bad predilection for putting myself in these situations since we broke up. from one desensitized and detached asshole to the next. there is a cold wall next to me in bed. i suppose it is a person who is not you. perhaps this new person i once felt compassion for. maybe that is why iím here. disgusted by life as always. you could never stand that about me or how i blamed you for everything like right now i want to scream into your shoulder about how i had to do this because you pushed me away, that i had to leave because in the mornings when i would wake up and see you sleeping alone it felt like i had killed myself. the decision to go east another in a life that has been a series of bad decisions. i was getting better. the world was starting to look clear, precise. i knew my destiny held my future, in my own hands. then i muddled it up. smeared grease across my face. i want to come home and tell you everything. about how silly shit is out here and that you were always the best judge of a persons character without even meeting them. how iím guilty and full of regret for never listening, when all you wanted was to help me. but i cannot go home. i burnt it down the first time i left. whatís there is skeletal remains. exposed nerves. ghosts i hang onto. now youíd tell me i did it to myself that i chose a fucked up half life mongoloid unloved existence with a drunk who has more affections for a cat. all because i couldnít stay committed to change living in your graveyard.
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