it's never over
9:38 p.m.

Dear hurt self, who still wants to be held, and kissed, and loved, even though she's seen and felt and known the pain it causes when it goes wrong,

It always goes wrong.

Dear boy,

Stop being nice to me. I will fall for you. It will ruin us both. Stop connecting with me so much, and knowing exactly what I mean, and explaining my feelings when I can't put them into words, and recommending songs that I love. Stop doing things that convince me we'd be great together. We wouldn't. I'm not great with people - I tear them apart. I break their hearts, of they break mine. I am too young to keep good love from going wrong.

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