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I’m angry with myself. For not being able to control how I feel, and letting it take over me and influence how I’ve been acting, I don’t want to be this person. I wasn’t. The old me wouldn’t have gotten so far, she wouldn’t have let herself get this close. Close enough to know things like how you talk, how you laugh, how you aren’t as loud as you appear to be, how you use violence as an outlet when you’re upset, how you like to talk about things but you don’t really like to think about them; and close enough to know that I’ll miss these weird things when I stop talking to you.
I don’t want this kind of attachment, I haven’t done this in a while, like someone for who they are, not what they look like or the first impression they give me. Talking to you and spending time with you is comfortable, and not awkward and I don’t feel nervous, it feels right, like its natural and supposed to be this way.
And that just isn’t going to work out.
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