It seems we both have storms raging in our hearts. I wonder what your storm is composed of. Every little detail of it. What color is your storm? How does it rage? Why does it rage? I want to know everything.. how torturous.
What is my heart made of? The first thought is iron. Kinda lame. I’ll have to think more deeply about this.
Is it lame that I reply to your writing at times? I find it kinda lame. Anything for the feeling of being close to you ig.
Often times I wonder if your writing is regarding me at all or not. Sometimes I feel like it might be, most of the time I think how silly of me to think that. Again, kinda lame.
Then I wonder if you read my writing and feel similarly at all. I feel as if I cling to your writing a lot. Of course you don’t. I’m here screaming into the void. Desperately hopeless. How silly.
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