sometimes lines blur.. you start to become unclear on where you drew them or if you ever put them down at all... intentions are hazy.. words are just like bullets and music and rain clouds... leaving marks on your heart with every letter.. I question the nature of purity, I question motives and follow through. friends are too precious to not care how you treat them... selfless or selfish.. safety is where I belong. my mind is quiet-- for once. I feel you.
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