This is my last weekend home. When I come back to visit nothing will be the same- this won't be my house anymore. It won't be my bedroom anymore and I won't have my spot at the dinner table anymore.
Visit. It's such a temporary word...
Driving all over town every weekend trying to decide what we should do tonight until it was too late and we had to
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I can't stop crying.
I don't want to.
I just love you.
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