You never anticipate it, I suppose. You lose yourself in the moment. In those moments of outlining faces with fingertips and tucking hair behind those ears, you throw out all your best deceptions. You're left wanting, doubting, and disgusted with yourself. You look at the mirror and see someone you hardly know.
I'm tired of trying to get back on my feet. All the while hoping someone comes to sweep me right off them again.
Love me. Choose me. Pick me -- she said. I'm finding that they almost never do.
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