Untitled XII

If I had a coin for every mundane thing I spent my time on; I would be a millionaire for the number of times I spoke death to my insecurities, only for them to resurface and laugh at me, almost as if they knew I needed them, to feel like myself.

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Someone Who Loves Me

My experience of romance can easily be called self-torment.

I knew I deserved better but still I stayed, never wondering what would happen the day better finally came along.

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