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@glaizagalo

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“I hate him,” she swears. And her hands clench into fists, so tight that the nails create little crescent shapes in her palms. “I hate him,” she promises. And her hands shake so violently she has to steady herself. “I hate him,” she repeats. Once, twice, three times. “I hate him.” But even a stranger could see by the fire in her eyes that she does not hate him. A passerby could take her hands and the little crescent shaped marks and see his name scrawled into her skin. She does not hate him. But she wants to, oh she wants to.
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You know what’s the most terrifying thing about admitting that you’re in love? You’re just naked. You put yourself in harm’s way and you lay down all your defenses. No clothes, no weapons. Nowhere to hide, completely vulnerable. The only thing that makes it tolerable is to believe the other person loves you back and you can trust them not to hurt you.
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I know I probably don’t cross your mind much anymore but I hope someday you see something that reminds you of me and the things we use to spend hours talking about at night and then your throat gets tight and your heart skips a beat and you finally miss me back.
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“I destroyed myself so you couldn’t hurt me.”
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I would love to build my own horizon so that I can have a limit on my mind.