I wonder how love becomes hurt and why love becomes the remedy of hurt itself.
Privacy. Space. These two can kill me. I hate silence. I hate not knowing. I hate that nothingness... but I respect individuality.
I cannot elaborate more on what's eating me now. The world seems to love gnawing at me. It savors my weakness. It explores my limitation....
I stop writing now. I took a pill. Its shape is irregular. The dosage given - a ton of understanding.
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