i take it back. it is not me the one who shall perish here. it is my ideas, those are the fragile, delicate shadows of what i was to be to any of you. and i am not that one, the one you aim to love for what they can offer. you can only love me for what a better person loving me can make you. see, its a mirror effect you can't really escape, i wrote an essay about this. they feel like this is as much as they will ever get to love actually. but it isn't. you'll learn to give me so much of you i didn't ask for and don't diserve, that in the end you'll get to realise how much it hurts to love one like me. i'll do a miserable mistake and you'll hurt even more. i'll say i'm sorry and i miss you and you'll hurt even more. i'll mean what i say and you'll hurt even more. you are the bruised, the poor, the 'in need'...they will be there for you, i'll be there too and you will heal beautifuly, no sign of the cuts i left on the surface, but some undesirable memories and the idea that you never had me before.
what is held to be forgoten? the fact that i know. it is enough to make me feel everything millions of times worse than any of you. the reason? well, my dear, for a couple of moments you too doubt yourself, only to realise in the end it is me. i have to live with that. i have to live with my bruises, and your bruises, and his pain, and his hurt, and their memories of a fucked up girl. i wake up with myself every day. and i brush my teeth with me standing behind myself. i drink my coffee with my silly thoughts running around. i get dressed with different clothes everyday only to wear in fact all that stupid face and all my sins in these 2 otherwise empty eyes...
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