Almost every time I tried to get a hold of myself, I always ended up failing. And I come around nearly a little while after. I was not sure as well, whether I have gathered myself or I was just making that up. I did not know, whether I was fooling myself or it was real;
I was my worst enemy.
And nothing was ever felt right.
Only the feeling of coming home never felt so much better.
Love, I can't decide. I have too many things clouding up my mind. It is hard to differ everything from where I stand. I am as good as broken string. I am as pathetic as Hollywood sad romantic movies. I am indesicive as ever.
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