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Literature Text
I missed the train...and bus...the taxi, too...
I got lost in thoughts of you.
A healing hand then touched my soul
She reminded me of my role.
I saw the sad ending of a story
That would never be told if I acted cold.
So, you see? I had to.
For you.
So I missed the train...and bus...and taxi, too...
I got lost in thoughts of you.
A healing hand then touched my soul
She reminded me of my role.
I saw the sad ending of a story
That would never be told if I acted cold.
So, you see? I had to.
For you.
So I missed the train...and bus...and taxi, too...
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So, this is an older piece I wrote in January. Don't worry, I don't write a lot of these things. I just completely forget about them, and they're really not half bad. So, I'm thinking: why not?
I wrote it when I didn't call my best friend and the girl I was in love with at the time to wish her a happy birthday. I didn't do it because we had drifted apart and we were barely anything anymore. It felt pointless to be the only one who was trying to do something with our friendship. It hurt. A lot. So I stopped.
That doesn't mean it doesn't hurt anymore. It doesn't mean I don't want to call her or see her. And it doesn't mean I won't. One day, I will. One day, when she's older and wiser. One day, when it won't hurt so much to see her throw her life away.
I wrote it when I didn't call my best friend and the girl I was in love with at the time to wish her a happy birthday. I didn't do it because we had drifted apart and we were barely anything anymore. It felt pointless to be the only one who was trying to do something with our friendship. It hurt. A lot. So I stopped.
That doesn't mean it doesn't hurt anymore. It doesn't mean I don't want to call her or see her. And it doesn't mean I won't. One day, I will. One day, when she's older and wiser. One day, when it won't hurt so much to see her throw her life away.
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