Who do I tell? Everyone has their own fallouts, their own personal tragedies to battle with. Even the ones that don’t have cracks in their windshields have no mileage on their speedometer; they haven’t the time to slow down and pick up a hitchhiker. It’s understandable. I can’t truly decide whether I could stand to let myself be carried along anyway, becoming the problem in someone else’s existence. The bump in the road that needs to be filled in, poured up with concrete until it is as smooth and solid as they go. It never seems like it is out of choice, and when it […]
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