Everything dies. Everything ends. Everything always turns bitter and wrong. I see the ending before we even begin. This is how I know one day one of us will hurt the other. Everywhere I turn these days I am seeing into the past. When S and I first began. The glowing ignorant naivete. How we forgot it.
There were two people, and one was calling her my girl in a way that said possession, happiness, falling in love. The other said, how do I trust her, why am I here; in a way that said anger, fear, dislike, mistrust. I know where the latter came from, but I didn't know the former had ever existed.
And what is here now? A choice to become a friend, a choice to block any present and future anything more than friends because all I know how to do is ruin and break and fear. And she means more to me, is too good for me, deserves so much better than me.
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