I love both of you, all of you, forever

Back in the car, I kept sticking my hand out the window, feeling the cold air, and then placing my cold hand on my cheek. “This is what’s real,” I whispered to myself, more than once.

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How hurting has helped me

I love him, and he doesn’t speak to me. I love him, and he doesn’t hold my hand. I love him, and he doesn’t dance with me. And I love him. 

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