Is it weird that I want to find an exact replica of my dead cat so I can have him again?
I don’t know why I introduce new people into my life. It always hurts in the end.
Major plot twist
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Waka’s Flocka Pigeons
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Sometimes, I get sad because I think of things that will never happen in my life. I’ll never get to do everything I desperately desire. It’s impractical to be upset over such things. I have many lifetimes’ worth of experiences I dream about all at the same time. If only I was a different person, in so many ways. Then, when the gaping hole in my chest starts to close, I realize that I would miss the life I have. The fucked up person I’ve become. The uncertainty and certainty of my undesirable future. And that maybe I can be ok with just living all those lives inside my head. But something will always arise and trigger that gaping hole, and my life will feel hollow and useless, and panic rises in my throat like acid at the thought of being so far away from everything I desire to be. — myself
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I’m no good.