One thing is for sure: I need to love to survive. I've tried loving myself, following the script of all those meaningful quotes with unknown authorship, written on peaceful backgrounds. What a poor substitute I turned out to be!
So I ask myself: Have I clung onto him only because there was no one else? Was that "love"? I read myself and remember. Vaguely. Once upon a time ... That time is dead. That me is dead. That me was someone else buried under the heavy curtains of tearful nights.
I killed her.
There was no use in prolonging the agony. She would've withered away in the end anyway.
And then, one cloudy spring, there came the sunrise. The sun has been shining since.
Once upon a time, nothing happened.
Now, everything happens at once.
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