plain and simple
9:51 a.m.

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I have decided to save my sanity. I'm going to fold it up and put it away somewhere safe where you and all of the things I will never understand about you can never touch it. From now on there's a new emotion in town. Pity. And this time it's not even self oriented. No, in fact, I feel pretty fucking great about myself. There is nothing wrong with me. It's you I pity. You, who could have had everything in this world that some people ever want. You, who only needed to look up for a moment to see that you are so very, very loved. Yes, I feel sorry for you now. Because you never look up...you never notice...and if you do, it is not in you to be able to truly appreciate how lucky you are. I love you more than my own life. I would give up anything, do anything, say anything, I would allow my body to be put through a thousand physical trials, I would sit through countless hours of mental and emotional torture and torment...if you were cold I would give you the very skin off of my body to crawl in and warm yourself, if you were hungry I would let you eat the flesh off of my bones, and if, after all was said and done, you wanted them: you could have my dusty bones, too. But you don't want them. You say that I am not worthy. Not good enough. I guess someday maybe you'll stop purposefully ignoring me long enough to go out and find someone better, prettier, smarter, funnier, sexier, older, wiser, nicer...and I won't be so conceited as to say that such a person does not exist, but will she love you as I do? Maybe. But maybe not. And so I pity you. You would rather be alone, you would rather have someone that you have to fight to keep, you would rather take this perfect love for granted until it's all washed away by my tears....you would rather do anything than love me back. And that just makes you a fool.

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