I didn’t know what to do.
I knew what I wanted to do. I knew what I was supposed to do.
But I didn’t know what I was going to do.
Stichwörter: choices
I loved you even when you forgot me.
And—for a little while—you loved me back.
Stichwörter: unrequited-love
I’m nothing, here. A lowly surveillance analyst. Being the hero could have meant something good for me. Could have changed my whole life.
I could have done it. I should have done it.
I sat there and I thought about you, instead.
They’d come for you, and this time they’d come with weapons.
I was afraid of that. For you. But not of you.
Never afraid of you.
I gave you all my secrets, and you lost them all. You lost a lot of things.
But the treasure of it was in the giving, not the keeping.
Stichwörter: love sacrifice generosity
I wanted to take your hand into mine and kiss it.
I never dared.
Stichwörter: desire
So. Monday. We meet again.
We will never be friends—but maybe we can move past our mutual enmity toward a more-positive partnership.
Stichwörter: humor humorous monday mondays
You don't get to choose who turns you into a maniac.
They just do, and you're just fucked, and the rest is just damage control.
Stichwörter: love lovers-quarrels
But it turns out Joy is a house built from the same bricks as Sorrow. Pleasure is a poem, and it uses the same words as Pain.
Julio Alexi GenaoStichwörter: pain loss joy pleasure emotion grief
If my life were like the novels, this would be the dark period in act two after my one true love rejects me, where I reel off to do things I have to apologize for in act three.
Julio Alexi Genao« erste vorherige
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