At some point, even the greatest misery begins to fade. Life, or what passes for life, plods on in it's own unending weary footsteps, and somehow we plod along with it, if we stay lucky.
i can't hold onto love.i'm not gentle enough.i always end upcrushing the thingin between my fingertips.
you are safe here.
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i can't hold onto love.i'm not gentle enough.i always end upcrushing the thingin between my fingertips.
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