A sudden, overwhelming feeling of "I don't need you". A few more nights like these & I do believe I won't have to do pickle voodoo! I feel proud of myself (don't get complacent now, Miss Volatile).
I write from a cafe in a hospital. I write with whatever I have left of myself, to the distant memory of you. It is almost silent, save for the coffee grinder & new-age music in the background. I am surrounded by sheer intelligence. Doctors, medical staff & patients alike come & go for their fix of caffeine. I feel displaced. I'm almost certain
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