Black Hole

I am not who you think I am, and you are definitely not who I think you are. Which of course may be not true since I already distrust my first instinct of you.
Miracles don’t happen, waiting brings nothing, but how to act? Why, how, in which manner? I wish I didn’t have to be the one. I wonder why is always so difficult… For others seem so simple, so natural… And for me… Love is death and love is a struggle against myself. Love is pain and loss and… The abyss of darkness and forgetfulness. Love is a black hole.


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