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I might cry and say nothing about it just cry my lungs out.
kenapa ya Senin ke Sabtu Minggu lama banget giliran Minggu ke Senin secepet itu
It is upsetting to know that me, myself, don’t even know whether I suffer no past scars or I still have a glimpse of it. These past years, I believed that I have finally opened a new chapter of my life. Is that really it? Or was it only a time where I convinced myself that I am alright now? “You will eventually heal from that,” “You will recover,” and so on. I had a faith on those words. But it sinks in. I tried to love again but I count with my fingers, all of them were failures. Complete failures. Whether the problem is on me or God knows who. It’s almost crazy that I always asked in my head, “Why don’t they hurt me?” as I waited as if it’s a completely normal thing to happen in a relationship. Platonic or not. Fuck them all. I somehow believe that I no longer have a proper shape: whether to love or to be loved. I am in no shape to be fixed. And that’s fine by me.
I’m just tired that the life I’m living right now does not meet my expectation.
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