When you left, you took my life with you. And it took me a decade to remember what it was like to be alive. I just realized I'm picking up right where I left off. It's ten years later and here I am telling a boy I don't want to be in a relationship and whispering in his ear to make love to me. Both on the same day. Here I am missing a girl who lives across the country. It's 10 years later and still I am running into her arms on some crowded airport. Still waiting. Still unsure of myself. Am I doing more harm than good. Am I setting myself up for heartbreak? Yes. Definitely setting myself up. My heart is begging to be broken, if only to remember it still can. Because right now I have no idea. It's in so many pieces from when you left that I simply don't believe in love anymore.
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