we will never be able to trade our boredom and creeping anxiety for a revolution. i don't think anyone really wants one anyway. glory and purpose, individual recognition, these are our lusts. which is no sin. still, we can't hope to hurl ourselves at the heedless grey mass of of our lives, hoping for some sheen. without fear of pain or death. its
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i love you. pretend all the good things are for you. pretend all the good things are for me too?
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i love you too.
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