who cares

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if i had a worls of my own, everything would be nonsense. nothing would be what it is, because everything would be what is in't and contrary wise, what i is, it wouldn't be. and it what wouldn't be, it would. starry eyes

i feel so absolutely empty. i feel like sleeping- but i have dreams nonstop about you. i feel like dying, but i know i’m better than that. there is no escape to this endless pain that i know you are numb to. you slipped so slyly out of my hands in which you should have been staying so comfortably in.

empty. alone. sad. restless.

i know she says love doesn’t exist, but what is this?