| Decay, Deteriorating; During a fight after being stood up for a date, Takuma hits Yuuki, and the two of them quickly spiral out of control. | |
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| Topic Started: Mar 22 2018, 06:35 PM (5 Views) | |
| RainyMemory | Mar 22 2018, 06:35 PM Post #1 |
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Being stood up on our third date, waiting on the cliffs for hours until it was dark and then pouring down rain, it was only natural I was pissed. I love Yuuki more than anything, I always have and I'm sure I always will, but I couldn't help but explode. If he had just showed some remorse for his actions instead of fighting me and saying I was making a big deal out of nothing, I wouldn't have punched him. But even that didn't do anything, and his stance on it stayed the same. I had enough pride that I could hold myself up for a couple days, just ignoring him and waiting for him to understand. But that didn't happen, and I should've known, but it was too late for that. I couldn't give up first, because... because he's the one that said it didn't matter. If going on dates didn't matter, if seeing each other didn't matter, then our relationship didn't matter, and I didn't matter. My will power dipping and fading, I started only coming out of my room for school and chores. Then only for chores. Then only to shower, and never when anyone was up. Izo, Ryouta, and Mamoru would come knocking on my door; telling me to at least try talking with Yuuki, but I didn't answer, I just stayed curled up in my bed sheets that still smelled like him, the scent making my guts twist but I felt too heavy to move. As time passed, it would turn into 'come out, Yuuki's not home', and eventually it started to seem like Yuuki was never home. I wanted to apologize, thinking that it really was my fault now, but I still couldn't bring myself to do anything but shower and sometimes change clothes, and occasionally eat whatever Ryouta brought up to my room. After all, if I mattered to Yuuki at all, he'd come see me, right? For all he knows, I died in this room days ago. So when I heard a knock on the door, and a voice that didn't belong to the other three asked to talk, I pulled myself out of bed and opened the door. My appearance was a mess. I never did anything with my hair other than wash it, I spent hours crying, I barely ate anything recently; but I didn't mind it, because Yuuki still cared about me. If he didn't, then he wouldn't have ever come to talk, and he would've just let me rot away in this room. In all my desperation and relief, I kissed Yuuki until I was dizzy, tears running hot down my cheeks while I tried to hold him. But something wasn't right, and he pushed me away. My mind not working right, questions flying around left and right, I stumbled out another apology and I said how I loved him. But he... wouldn't accept it. "You...are still..." Something inside of me shut down and my entire body ached. His words wrap around my throat and burn the skin while my brain tells me how stupid and worthless I am. I only hit him because he was hurting me, but that was wrong, wasn't it? I fucked up. I fucked up. It was me, I ruined it. I ruined everything, like always, it's me. It's me. I'm frozen in place, the question of who Michael was drowned out by Izo and Ryouta sitting me down on the bed and Mamoru ushering Yuuki back to their room. I feel sick, but there's nothing in my stomach to vomit. Everything is a blur, and I can't even begin to say anything. Ryouta and Izo stay with me the whole night, but by the morning I manage to tell them that I'll feel better after some time on my own. That the company is making me feel sick, and that I want to be alone for a while. Izo is hesitant, but Ryouta takes him and leaves the room. I lock the door behind them, and I scream and cry into my pillows that don't really smell like him anymore. I claw at my skin, and I sleep in horrible waves. My dreams are the world I should live in, where Yuuki and I are happy together, but I keep jerking awake to the harsh reality, where his arm isn't around my waist and he's not kissing the back of my ear or saying he loves me or telling me I just need to be myself or trying to share the work. In the end, wasn't it all lip service? Everything Yuuki's ever said to me, it was all out of pity. Like playing with a kid who admired you, but you didn't know how to say he was annoying until the kid gave you a proper reason to hate him. But that wasn't Yuuki's fault. He was just trying to be nice. I'm not anything special, I'm not worth his time. I'm not worth anyone's time. Every rumor about me is something I deserve. As a human, I'm garbage. I don't know how to deal with people, and everything good about me is superficial. Even then, my features are too strong, and my body is unbalanced. Right now, even my hair is a mess. I'm nothing but a faulty company doll. I'm defective, and it was only a matter of time before Yuuki threw me away. It'd be better if I just disappeared. It'd be better if I just died in this room and rotted away. Eventually, my feelings numb out. I'm so miserable that there's nothing left. The others try and talk to me through the door, and I imagine they're giving Yuuki a similar treatment, since every now and then I hear something about Yuuki being sick and not getting out of bed. I want to say I feel bad, because I blame myself for absolutely everything, but I can't feel anything right now. The others ask me to come with them to see the fireworks, but I wouldn't go. Instead, I waited for them to be gone, and I hide one of the medkits in my closet before dressing in way too many layers of clothes and completely burying myself in layers of medical masks and hats. It's hot and I'm suspicious but I don't care. They can't really tell who's under all of this, so I just buy myself a small box of razor blades at the department store and head back home. When I get back, I can hear Yuuki screaming at someone on his phone. My guess is that it's this Michael guy. I want to check on him, but Mamoru's taken care to hide absolutely anything that could be used to hurt oneself. I'm sure Yuuki knows that, and will just stay in bed. I lock the door to my room after grabbing a towel and I take off my millions of layers. I doubt Yuuki would want to see me anyway. I lay the towel on my bed and sit down in just a t shirt and underwear. I remember everything at once, and all I can manage at first is several small cuts along my thigh. But the more I think, the more I cut, the more I feel; and soon I'm carving 'I'm sorry' into my leg. It doesn't feel good, nothing feels good. But I know I deserve it, and I guess it's better than just not feeling anything at all. I imagine how Yuuki feels now, and how he felt when he cut at the hotel Natsuo was staying at, and I cut a line so deep it makes me shiver and gasp. I clench my teeth and let the blood run for a while before cleaning up and dressing the wounds. I want to die, but if I'm going to go, I want to end it myself. Not because I got an infection. I consider that maybe I should show Yuuki, tell him that I'm this sorry. I'm so sorry that I'm cutting it into my flesh. But I don't want him to know I have something he could hurt himself with, and I don't want him to take me back anymore, anyway. He deserves something better than a broken company robot. It's like that for a very, very long time, it feels like. I've dropped out of school, I don't leave my room, I just sleep and carve up my legs, occasionally eating what food is brought to me, showering, saying that I'm fine every now and then just so Izo doesn't open my door to see if I've died. On my legs, there's too many apologies to count, but it's still not enough. My birthday was spent without me, and my age is carved into the top of my foot. But, soon there's talk about going home, and everyone starts packing. Izo's talking to me through the door. "You'll feel better back home, Natsuo is coming, too." I texted Natsuo for a while, but I haven't talked to him in a month. But more than that, I realize something else. This body doesn't belong to me. I'm only borrowing it, it belongs to the agency. I say okay, and I close my eyes tight, I drop my head back as I draw three straight lines down my thigh. I sigh and take in the pain, hoping it'll remove the impending thoughts that are already making me sick. The only thing good about me is my looks. What have I just spent over a month destroying? It hurts to move, but I scramble for the bathroom once I can tell no one is in the hall. I announce I'm taking a shower, since we're leaving tomorrow, and I run the bath and shower. A bloody towel sits on my bed, and I pray no one checks my room for anything or notices if I dripped any blood in the hall on my way to the bathroom. I grip the blade until my palm is flowing red, and I stare myself down in the mirror. I don't recognize the person looking back at me. I'm scared. I want to die. I want to die. I want to die. Worthless is carved into my hip, waving on the bone in messy letters because it hurt so bad. Failure is on my left bicep. There's too many apologies to count on my legs, too many ladders, too many lines. I have more scar tissue on my legs than normal skin, I'm sure of it. I can't go home. I can't go home, I don't deserve to go home, I don't deserve anything anymore. I wasn't punishing myself, I was running away. I was just using cutting to run away. I vomit up the small breakfast I ate, I bring myself back to the mirror and have to resist the urge to scream. The bath fills up and I turn off the water. The heat makes the cuts burn, but I settle in the tub anyway. I lay my head back against the porcelain and I watch the ceiling while making tally marks on my left palm. If I go home now, I'll be fired. Because this body wasn't mine to damage, and I did it anyway. I don't have talent, all I had were my looks, and I'd ruined them. Just like I ruin everything else. The color of my blood, as always, reminds me of Yuuki. I sink into the water and close my eyes while I start a line from the top of my shoulder all the way down to the middle of my chest on a diagonal. I scream under the water when it runs over my collar bone, and my free hand digs into the cuts on my leg. I make lines between my ribs, and my body forces itself to come up for air. I mark my left wrist several times, before dropping it under the water and flushing the blade down the toilet. I rest my head back against the tub again, and I watch the door as someone knocks on it. My senses fade out before the door opens. I can't hear anything when my vision comes back to me, just barely. Izo and Mamoru are both kneeling over me, I'm laid down next to the tub, Izo is yelling something I can't hear, they're trying to stop the bleeding. My vision drops out again, but returns in a blurry state after not very long. I think I see Ryouta in the doorway, probably on the phone. Then someone is next to him, someone who has probably been waiting for me to do this. "I want to die..." I don't know if I'm actually saying anything, or if they can hear me over themselves. "I want to die... I want... please... please let me go..." I still can't hear anything, and my vision is fighting a losing battle, so I manage up what strength I have to tell them to let me go. I don't know if they hear it, but I don't feel them move or hear them speak. "Let me die... please..." I turn to face Yuuki in the hallway, because if anyone will tell the guys to let me go, it's him. He must understand. I deserve to die, after all. I've caused him so much suffering. "Yuu-chan..." The last of my tears roll down my temple, and I want to ask him to hold me in the very end at least. But, even if I could say it, I know not to. I don't deserve it, and neither does he. Just seeing him is enough. I know he wouldn't want to touch me, especially not in this state. I'm just glad I flushed the blade down the toilet, since now he can't have it. But I don't think that me dying would do anything to him. I don't care, though. I can have an unrequited love from beginning to end. |
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| basketkitty | Mar 23 2018, 05:02 AM Post #2 |
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He made dinner again tonight, as usual. Though this time, no one called me when it was done, and when I found out, there was none available for me. The others tried to pawn some of their share off to me, but it was obvious what was happening. So I refused and let them eat. But two could play at this game, and I made my own dinner. I dropped spices and let them spill on the counter, slopped milk out of my measuring cup, let my water boil over until there were burn marks on the stove...and of course I didn't wash my dishes afterward. In fact, I used as many as I could, stacking them high in the sink, knowing that without a clean sink, he wouldn't be able to do anything in the morning. I admit, I didn't like what I was doing. I felt awful about it, but if he was being this prissy, then I could be the same. He didn't need to hit me. I had spoken the truth, after all. We saw each other all the time. For an entire week straight, we hung off each other constantly, even! Maybe it was kind of a dick move on my part to forget the plans we'd made...but did it really matter? I didn't get to see them as often. And in two months' time, we'd be back in Japan and could make up for all the missed dates. Did it really matter? Was it really necessary to hit me? We haven't talked since then. My plans to try and get back at him for his 'assetry' didn't work, since the others just cleaned up after me. I guess I don't care either way. They don't really deserve to be in the middle of this stupid feud. Though now, there isn't much of one. Right now, he's just staying locked in his room, and neither of us are talking. It's aggravating, and stifling. Stifling, because Mamoru won't leave me to my own devices anymore. I don't blame him, since the last time me and Takuma fought I fell into a steep downward spiral. I think I'm a little better now, though. I don't think I'm completely wrong. I feel like Takuma is more wrong than me. I'm not going to scrabble back into his good graces yet. I don't need to do that anymore. I'm stronger now. But I still can't breathe sometimes when I'm at home. And since I no longer have to worry about missing another date, I've taken to hanging out with my new friends even more. It feels weird to be the one to ask if I could spend time with them, but they're receptive and welcome me. It's relaxing. It's exciting. For the first time in two days I was able to smile and feel like my chest wasn't about to cave in. We hung out even more after that. Went to watch movies, loiter around alleys, go on a few mini shopping sprees... They gave me a pack of smokes, too. It's a good vice. I have to be careful since the smell upsets Izo, so I only smoke in the backyard, and I have to shower right afterward, but I don't mind. It's better than drinking booze. Drinking just makes me horny, and in turn, all I can think about is all the sex I can't have with Takuma anymore. Actually...I haven't touched the others at all since the fight. I just haven't really felt like it much. The only person I really want to have sex with is Takuma, but he refuses to come out of his room when I'm home. I can't tell if the desire is fading or increasing with this distance, either. It probably is increasing. About a week since that fight, Davon and Rashad invited me to a small party their friends were throwing. Nothing too extravagant. Just a few drinks, a couple girls... It was being set up at their friend's house, as his folks were gone for a couple days. So of course, being teenagers, that automatically called for a party. I showed up a little after it had gotten started, having spent far too long stressing about what to wear or bring. In the end, it didn't really matter. People only really cared about my face, anyway. But the attention was good. It was something I needed. I laughed, and flirted, and danced, going out for a smoke every now and then with Davon or Rashad. At one point I was introduced to the host of the party, a tall boy with a closely shaved head named Michael. He offered me a drink, and...while I knew better than to...I accepted. Just one couldn't hurt, right? True to my word, I kept to my one drink. Others weren't as clever. The party slowly died after several hours, a few kids scattered around the house in pairs, making out with each other. Amazingly enough, the couch wasn't taken, probably because I had taken residency on it a while ago. The air was hazy with cigarette smoke and weed, and a few scented candles to try and combat the smell. The lights were dimmed low, the brightness having bothered some of the higher teens. I felt someone sit beside me, but I didn't pay them much mind. I puffed at my cigarette, my mind off thinking about sex. God, I missed sex. I was starting to regret turning down all the girls that came up to me during the night. "Hey, want another drink?" I finally turned and looked at the small cup held out to me. I still felt a slight bit of buzz from my last can, but it was fading. And this wasn't much...so maybe a little more wouldn't be too bad. I thanked him, mushed my cigarette out and took the drink. It was sour and gross...but the buzz was coming back. The cup was small and I drank it pretty quick. We sat there for a bit more, watching the couple across from us starting to get even more handsy with each other. I glanced to the guy beside me. Michael. He looked a little tipsy, himself, and was fumbling slightly with his lighter. My mind started racing. He was drunk, so would he remember? If I stayed awake afterward, I could go back home and no one would know. If I topped, he might get too embarrassed to tell anyone that he was fucked by another guy. ...In retrospect, it was deplorable thinking. But I was desperate. And his lips were as soft as they looked, full and thick. His lighter clinked onto the floor, and his cigarette followed suit. Hid body was taut and lean, his hands not afraid to grab me. He tasted like smoke and alcohol, and I probably did, too. When I pulled away for breath, his black eyes were bright and inky, pulling me in even more. He ended up not as drunk as I thought he was, and as a result...the sex was amazing. I was planning on topping, but once his pants came off...fuck. It sounds cliche, so I don't like to think in that way...but I guess I just got really lucky. When I woke up, it was already morning. My plan was completely destroyed, but...a part of me didn't care. Michael's arms were warm, and I was finally satisfied and content. He was still asleep, though, so maybe if I was careful, I could still slip out without him knowing. We had moved into his bedroom partway through our making out last night, so I had a lot more ground to cover before I was out. I slipped from under his arm and gathered my few pieces of clothes. I pulled them on and hurried downstairs, opening up all the frantic texts I was getting from the others. ...Of course, none from Takuma. I wondered if he even realized I was gone all night. Back home the others were obviously upset with me, and I apologized profusely for making them worry. Seeing how I was safe, however, they eventually let me off the hook and let me shower the alcohol and smoke off. When I was dried and dressed, though, I ended up getting another text. 'Great time last night. Hope to see you again xoxo' ...I shouldn't have. I really, really shouldn't have. But it had been a week since I so much as saw Takuma, so it was...kind of obvious we weren't together anymore. Even still, a week wasn't very long. ...But then again, even if we were together, we probably weren't anymore. Not after last night. I could say that I let my drunkenness get the better of me, but I wasn't that smashed. He would see through me. So I might as well cut it off early. At least on my end. I ended up returning Michael's texts. We ended up talking a lot. We even met when we hung out with the others. Somehow, he didn't seem repulsed by me. Maybe I was wrong by them all being homophobic? Thinking that way, I relaxed more. Almost automatically I filled the hole I made just a week prior. I ended up going to his house a couple times more. His folks were pretty nice, and didn't mind when I slept over. I told the others that I had gotten close to one of Rashad's buddies, and that I couldn't rest when I was at home anymore. They accepted it, though seemed a bit concerned. But as long as I came back during the day, they supposed they didn't mind. And I didn't, either. Sex ended up being even better when we were both sober, and we did a surprising amount of just plain cuddling and kissing afterwards, too. I came over almost every night when I could, to help ease the tension of studying at home. My exams were coming up, after all, and just because me and Takuma weren't speaking (meaning that the band was also put on hold for the time being), didn't mean that I couldn't look towards my future as well. Though aside from sleeping together as often as we could, Michael and I ended up going on dates as well, if you could call them that. We hung out, talked, played games, watched movies...and the only way they really could be counted as dating was that they always ended with a kiss. At some point, he even said to me, "I never thought myself as gay, you know... But, damn, you're the most hottest piece of ass I've ever met." I blushed, of course, and returned the sentiment, though admitted to being gay for a while now. He just laughed, and called me 'The cutest fucking thing' before pulling me into another kiss. It was a couple days after that little back and forth, and perhaps two weeks since we'd met at the party. It was just after sex, and I was laying back on the bed, basking in the afterglow with him leaning over me. We kissed and he cupped my cheek, whispering words that I didn't expect to hear from someone like him. "I love you." ...'I love you'. In Japanese, that could mean three different things. In English...there's only one meaning. My head spun as I realized that. And though I shouldn't, because it was so soon after Mamoru, so soon after Takuma...I took his hand, the estrogen running high. "I love you, too..." We hugged each other tightly, of course. It felt so fast, only two weeks and already a confession...but I felt it. Maybe it was only artificial, but I felt it. Maybe his was fake, too, but I was desperate. Just like with Izo and Skyler, I wanted a relationship that wouldn't last for very long. Michael filled my lowered criteria now, anyway. He made me happy, and, fuck, did he make me horny. Even if it was fake love, fabricated and pulled out of our asses, I didn't care. In a month, maybe two, we wouldn't see each other anymore. Maybe after I leave, he pulls some stunt and tries to ruin me...but after the hell that was going on in Japan, I was pretty sure what he said wouldn't be taken seriously. I don't let him take pictures, after all. When he fell asleep, however, my head still hadn't stopped spinning. ...Love. Ai. He loves me. I love him. I love him. Oh, god, I love him. My stomach started spinning as well. I slipped out from under his arm and hurried to the bathroom, pulling on a pair of underwear as I got out. I slid to the floor in the bathroom, throwing up into the toilet. I love him, I love him. I love him. My brain is screaming. I throw up again. I love him, I love him. I love him, I love him. Panting heavily, I slump to the ground, fingers digging into my hair, my wrists over my ears. Why did it hurt so much? It isn't painful, though. But it is. It is too much to bear. I love him, I love him. God, I love him. Never had I ever loved someone so much. There's nothing left to throw up. I can't even cry. A drawer rattles. And then the noise in my head stops and I collapse on the ground again. Through my bleary, confused state, I can see red oozing towards me. My hand clutches something. I'm tired. I close my eyes. When I woke back up again, I was in bed, Michael's arms wrapped around me. He held me tightly, kissing my head. I groaned. "Oh, Yuuki! You're finally awake! You had me so scared... What were you doing?" His voice was panicked, worried. I didn't reply. I didn't know what to say. The pain in my leg was getting to me. "L...Listen, Yuu... Did I do something? What's wrong? Was I too fast?" he asked, now pulling me up to hold me by the shoulders. I shook my head. "N-no...I just...I-I just..." I trailed off. I could feel bandages on my leg. It itched. "I just...have never been loved..." I whispered finally, leaning into him. "And I'll have to leave soon... I'm sorry. I couldn't handle it." He went quiet, and rubbed my back. He had a lot of questions, of course, but he saved them for later. When I was feeling better, he asked some of them. Mostly about if I was okay with the confession, and if I loved him back the same. Both received a yes. I did love him. I did, I truly did. In this moment, in this time, I did. I felt so sick, though. So very, very sick... I went back home after that. The others were glad to see me again, but mostly they were stern. They reminded me that the fireworks festival was coming up, and they wanted to be able to celebrate it as a band. But...they couldn't, if Takuma refused to talk to me and vice-versa. "Well, it's kind of hard to make nice again when he won't speak to me," I pointed out, crossing my arms. "It's kinda hard to talk to you when you're not even home ever," Ryou pointed out right back. And it was true. Since being at home had been completely useless lately, I had taken to living with Michael. It was so much more relaxing, and I could get a lot of studying done there, when we weren't macking on each other. "I know you're happy now, but...it's really upsetting when you aren't home," Ryouta added. I looked away. "My therapist tells me to focus on myself for a while. I can't make others happy if I can't make myself happy first," I replied. The others couldn't argue. But Izo did speak up. "That's all well and good, but just because you want to focus on your own happiness right now doesn't mean you should completely ignore other people's." I pause, my face still averted. What can I tell them? Before I had left his house, Michael asked if I could watch the fireworks with him. But now... Now... I dragged myself upstairs. My leg howled with every step, and my mind swayed so much that I had to pause in the bathroom to collect myself. For the band. For the band. For the band. I knocked on Takuma's door. As expected, there wasn't a response...until I spoke through the small crack. "Taku...I'm...sorry...it's been so long. Can we...talk?" I didn't know what to say. What do I say? I'm sorry, Takuma...ai isn't possible anymore. But to my surprise, he opened the door. He did, he opened it. And he stood there, looking at me...and I remember how he was when I left for two days to stay at the hotel. When I had come back, he was in tears and kissed me until he was sick. This time was the same. Muffled apologies between fierce kisses, fingers painfully clinging to the hairs on my head, thumbs pressing into my ears, causing my brain to buzz again. He seemed oblivious to my attempts to pull away. He just pulled me in more. The kisses were sour. Bitter. Stale. Empty. I could feel bile rising in my throat, but I choked it down. His tears mingled between our lips, salty and hot. I managed to break away, the two of us panting. He was confused...upset. "I'm sorry, Yuuki," he whispered, stepping closer to me. I stepped away. "I...I love you." "...No you don't," I murmured, my face turned away. In two days, the fireworks. In five days my exams. In eight days...his birthday. ...But I couldn't celebrate them with him. My insides were on fire. My blood itched, my organs burned, my bones creaked. I shook my head. "...If you loved me...you wouldn't have hit me." His face contorts, and he stops. His shoulders drop. "You...are still..." "If you loved me...you wouldn't have hit me," I repeat. "Michael doesn't hit me. He loves me. He loves me." My brain is flinging itself around in my skull. Fireworks, exams, birthdays...love, sex, hate, suki, ai, koi. I'm sick. My body feels sick. I feel suddenly cold, and I wrap my arms around myself. The look Takuma is giving me doesn't feel good. I feel hot. But I'm freezing. "He loves me...he loves me..." I shiver. The others come rushing in, but through my state they're going frame-by-frame. Mamoru goes to my side, while Ryouta and Izo tend to Takuma, who seems to be in a state of shock. I'm lead away, to the bathroom in case I throw up, and Mamoru wipes my face with a cold cloth. It feels like ice. I sob. I'm sick. And I don't know how. I stay in bed, and tell the others go to watch the fireworks without me. I just sleep now. The others don't let Michael visit. Mamoru knows about my leg. He doesn't leave me alone at all anymore. He pets my head and sings to me. He sleeps with a separate blanket, but he hugs me from behind and tells me to get better. I'm too sick to study. I cry a lot. Everything hurts. I want to die. While the others are gone, my phone goes off. The extent of my strength goes into picking it up. It's Michael. My guts churn, like an explosion of moths just entered my intestines. And when I answered, they quickly took to chewing me inside out. "You got me sick!! Fuck you, you rotten whore! You fucking tell me you're a diseased skank! Fuck you, fuck you, fuck you!! Fucking gay faggot!! I hate you!!" My arm slid down, and my phone fell to the ground. I stared at the ceiling. "I love him," I whispered. ...It didn't have the affect I wanted. I wasn't going to get out that easily. I tried screaming instead. ...But it was gone. The love was gone. It was never real. It was never there. I was never getting it. I failed my Keio exams. My sickness stuck with me through to the test and never left. It took an agonizing month to find out. And we were packing up to go back home. Except me. I'm not going back to Japan. I refuse. I refuse. I refuse. I can't make myself happy. So I can't make others happy, either. So I can't love myself. So I can't love others. So...what's the point? What's the point. |
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6:41 PM Jul 11