Why?
Sometimes I feel like I am constantly looking for excuses,
Reasons,
For why there is this gaping hole in me that never seems to be quite filled.
This constantly festering wound of pain,
That I was born with,
That I just want to put a label on.
I remember at such a young age believing that happiness was something that should be strived for but never truly reached, and if it was reached,
it would…
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