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It's silent.

Only the sound of my typing.


The cold creeps in through the window.


Surrounded by my artwork and the soft touches of my personality.


The smell of coffee and pastries through the vent.

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And that's through. I have to walk through the memories. The text messages. The journal entries. The darkness. The depression. The mistakes. The regrets. I have to cut through it over and over until I

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Why are you so clumsy? You should stop staring at your feet when you walk. Let's go on a walk today along the river. You're so awkward. I love your personality. Why do you text so much? I love reading

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