The boys have finally quietened down, and they're currently smoking, and clearing up the remains of the Macdonalds' meals.
Leaving me, with my emo FM, and a fresh fag to brood over the day's events.
And they mentioned him numerous times. Nobody realises it hurts me to hear simply his name.
I can choose not to dwell on it, to move on. What's another tragic love story in my life? It would be laughable if this one actually turned out right. One minute, it can't even be considered a tale. Too fleeting, too short-lived for a fling. Only "One-off" would be apt.
Saw him today. I guess I was asking for it. I wanted to see him.
Perhaps I was hoping for what could never be. Of wishes, and dreams that can never ever be fufi
Enough. Bye.
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