a full stop.
i feel like i'm sinking in quicksand.
it still rings in my head, the exact decibel of your voice,
the tone, even the length you pulled your words.
i remember everything.
ala fightclub,
perhaps we only fulfilled the purpose of being single-serving friends?
this is not the first. but the second. out of 2.
or scratch that.
scratch everything out.
everything.
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