Just thinking about you makes me feel sick. My stomach in knots, my chest heavy, my head starts spinning and tears threaten to escape. You're like a disease; a horrible horrible affliction that's fueled by addiction and clearly I'm a rebelling masochist fighting against my own masochistic nature of loving you.
If I'm fighting against myself and I win... did I really lose?
If I'm fighting against myself and I win... did I really lose?
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