our eyelids are glued down, the pressure increasing at such a rapid pace & we're stuck between loving to lose ourselves and packing a single leather suitcase and fleeing from everything that meant anything to us.and in these moments i'd like to think that i'm not one to run, but my suitcase is already leaving without me & i'm waving goodbye. my
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(you had a great answer, just as a beautiful song came on)
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Does this make us creeps? :)
I wish I was special, so fucking special.
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I don't know you, but you're probably better than special.
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