Why is love necessary? Most of the time it’s not even real. It comes, than goes away. Like a dying rose. It’s pretty at first, but than it turns black and starts to fall apart. It’s old and ugly, and yet it’s kept in the vase. The rose was once pretty and alive, but now it has to be disposed of. There’s love for you. Old and wasted. It’s as ancient
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that was so sad i llove you indi
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Missing you always,
<3Bridget
(Can't wait 'till our sleepover! And my proofreading!)
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