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She moved on and I feel sorry for you, because she overlooked your flaws, your temper, your selfishness, your inability to love anyone but yourself. She could have anyone in the world, but she still chose you every time. All you are now is a crease in her past, a scar on her chest, a memory that fades faster than a photograph of you in a sealed box, hidden. Maybe now she will fight for someone who loves her, instead of someone who sucks the life out of her, never satisfied, even with her beating heart in his greedy hands.
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Isn’t it crazy how you could miss a place more than you miss a person? The same person that held your very hand walking down that same street? That spun you around, that kissed you in front of passing strangers? That looked you in the eyes and told you they love you and for that split second you began to believe it? That same person that keeps your mind awake at 4 am while you write about the way your jaw clenches and your finger tips start to tremble just when you hear their name slip from someones mouth. I began to feel sorry for myself because how could I be so cruel to miss the place you would rest your hand on my knee rather than the feeling of my heart pacing faster and faster the closer you got to my thigh? But a place can’t hurt me. A place can’t make me feel like their “one and only” yet when midnight rolls around they’re telling another girl how sexy she looks with her hair down. A place can’t make every vein in my wrists go cold at the thought of you with someone else. A place can’t hurt me. But you can, you will, and you did.
Orion Carloto // 4 am thoughts (via sskeptical)
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