My days don’t do anything but get harder n harder.
I’m not sure if the universe is at fault or I am.
I just know the tangible feeling of hate all to well. Its sooo lovely. Kind of like an aphrodisiac.
I just know for years I have been tasting the salty dissatisfaction of my own tears to the point where crying being extinct. Only to lead to crying feeling needed, strained, feeling, having feeling, much better than an orgasm. No one knows the severity.
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