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We’ve been through too many almosts.

It would’ve been easier if you had just stopped loving me.

Or if it had been unapologetically my fault.


But the fact that it was us,

two people who still couldn’t see each other,

who kept choosing different paths,

no matter what lifetime we were in,

somehow brings me a kind of truth, 

in the most miserable way.


Maybe because, at some point, we both cared too much to keep breaking each other.


At least, we could agree on that part, 

couldn’t we?

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