..I’ve got so much to tell you about where I have been
what am I suppose to say?
How am I supposed to feel?
Why do you have to be so pretty?
Why do I float between wanting you and not wanting you?
Why do I feel such lonely?
Close the door when you leave.
I want you to leave...
----------
Clarissa...wake up, he’s gone...
It is a strange sort of pain
"to die of yearning for something you'll never experience"
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