He has become nothing but a distant memory of woe, fading into a subtle mist on the horizon at daybreak. And as the sun rises, the brightness illuminates the truth - that his presence was embellished in my heart from the start.
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And I wondered what it was like to be chosen.
I was never chosen.
I was a maybe, a probably, sometimes even a definitely but never the one,
never the chosen one.
Unknown
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If I could turn back time, I'd just dance with you.
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I want to give up. It's really really hard to keep going when all you want is to give up. I want to be done.
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fatima aamer bilal, from all that is damaging.
[text id: there’s always a home. the one you’re running to or the one you’re running from.]
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