Sometimes, it's almost easier to forget your face. To breathe out and not think that you've been breathing that in.
The night in which I actually meet my expectations for you just hasn't gone by yet. In those 3 minutes in which I genuinely think about my life before I pass out, I feel so guilty, I feel so blue. Just knowing that I still love you, it'll never fucking be through.
Not too bad, I guess. Could be worse, I guess. You could be a ghost in my brain.
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