Talking about it doesn't fix me anymore. I talked and I talked and I talked about it all, and I still found myself crying on the way home. Cara held me hand over the emergency brake and she cried too. I don't feel as if I have let anything go that I haven't already released before. I know what could fix me, and its change. Not sharing, or crying,
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Ugh, sounds like love again. Or something along those lines.
I pictured what you said and I felt so bad for you.
Like a scene in a movie.. you don't need him.
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you are hurt by me because you called yourself not cute. pfft.
you're so female.
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fatty
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