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all these symbols and such.

the more i think about it, the move i loathe myself.

you were a perfect mould of my desires, my needs, and my wants.
a perfect companion, from head to toe.
someone who could, possibly, close your eyes and still understand the words in my head.

maybe that's why i am so afraid or unaffected.
nonchalance.
you can either see it both ways, or not see it at all.

i don't understand why i keep trying to find some distinction or difference in you from me.
i guess it gives me reasons to stop giving reasons so as to why you could have been.

it seems like i want to find more,
because i do not believe that was love.

and more is what i shall find.