A Collection of Spectacles

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05. Why is passion frowned upon? To burst at all sides, to live with a feeling. I wish the rush of excitability would last longer. If it were possible, believe me, I would get stuck in one day, repeating it over and over, with… What’s the risk of love? Tears in the shower blend in with the running water anyway, moving together, a release that cleanses at the same time. Everything is to be broken all at once, a complete and thorough destruction, or to be left untouched.

Waiting, waiting. Thinking of when you will soon hopefully soon run down my face, spring from my eyes.

Edits edit, I want to edit this now. It’s silly, I’m always.

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I’m so angered. I spent a majority of my years thinking I was fucking crazy. I committed myself to therapy what seems like a forever ago, and found out I’m anything but. And now. What he said I should continue to address is what’s confronting me right now. Man had good insight, who would’ve thought.

I’m tired of trying to prove to everyone that I’m not [ ] and I don’t think [ ], that I may seem like suchandsuch and whatever, which is true, but also not.

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