Love never dies a natural death.
It dies because we don’t know how to replenish its source.
It dies of blindness and errors and betrayals.
It dies of illness and wounds; it dies of weariness, of witherings, of tarnishings.
- Anaïs Nin.
kinda feel this way now. i dont know what i am upset about - was it with the unresolved situation or the person or the actions, or just me. need to think this through the next steps, but there's a hugeass difference between needing it and actually doing it. right now, all i want is to drop it and stay far away. no more misplaced hope, misplaced faith.
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