The game

It is ironic how now that I can no longer see you, now that I wake up alone and cry, cry all the time effortlessly. Now that it is over and I miss you, and I know your love will never be mine. It is at this moment that I see you in my future. […]

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In-between the roots

She was lost and found, lost and found all at the same time. She thought she could deal with all the mysteries of the world but she couldn’t accept the only mystery that was hers. She didn’t believe in the power of her love, and she kept losing what she had once cherished.

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Past or cycles

Every day I live it all. The pain. The love and happiness. The hate. And the things I want to say. And then I change my mind, and I believe, everything is alright. But the same keeps happening. Again. I don’t know if it’s truly fine… I feel at peace and more complete

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Truestory

«…» And so it was, the same thing, happening simultaneously everywhere. It never started. It never ended. Any moment could be a new beginning, any moment could turn into the last breath, and lots of in-betweens were to happen – haunted memories, longed-for dreams, lost

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The Beauty of Words

We are all together in our aloneness. . Sometimes, in our desperate need to feel connected, words are the hand that opens the window of the other to their self. Words are powerful. Words save and destroy, heal and hurt. Words give and take. Words make up our worlds. Words

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