i go to sleep alone, and wake up alone. i laze around the whole day and run in the evenings. everything seems simple, until i started thinking, why is love intensified with absence.
Time passes. Even when it seems impossible. Even when each tick of the second hand aches like the pulse of blood behind a bruise. It passes unevenly, in strange lurches and dragging lulls, but pass it does. Even for me.
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