I'M KILLING MYSELF SLOWLY, CIGARETTE BY CIGARETTE. A SELF-INFLICTED MARTYRDOM, OR PUNISHMENT.
YESTERDAY IT OCCURED TO ME THAT EVERY TIME I'VE BEEN IN LOVE WASN'T REAL. IT'S NEVER BEEN MORE THAN THE ACCIDENT OF BEING AT THE SAME PLACE AT THE SAME TIME. LOVE WAS ONLY RECOGNIZING THIS. FEELING NEAR TO HER, THEN.
BECAUSE I NEEDED TO.
LASTING LOVE CANNOT BE. NOT THE KIND I'VE ALLOWED MYSELF TO BELIEVE IN. THIS SOLID AND UNCOMFORTABLE FACT BOTHERS ME SO MUCH IT SHOWS ONLY IN MY ACTIONS. I'VE BEEN FIGHTING THE TRUTH OF THIS, AND THE CONSEQUENCE.
I HAVE TO COMPROMISE.