i am back, reading my old stories, seeing how i was back then. i am back not to ask for help, begging for comments, like i did back then, but to save the thoughts i have now for reading it later like i do now
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of course I am jealous and hurt. but this metaphor means that i am so stupid to rather hurt myself than to tell her my feelings and that i am hurt. doesnt she see that for herself?
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and who are you, friend?
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