I do not hate you for leaving me, I understood from the moment our relationship began that we were doomed, doomed to love, doomed to die, doomed to forget. Yet we still speak. My head is ever filled with the useless remnants of our relationship. How you love purple and pineapples, how you got your scars. Which remnants of me have you kept? What does she give you now? The new one. Her. That anonymous creature I have no objection to. I feel you are somehow entitled to her. Somehow.
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