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You think I'm sad about losing a lover, but you're missing the point. It's not about being able to find another lay. It's that now that's all it will ever be. A fuck. Not a lover, not a partner. Not someone to share the rest of my life with. Absolutely not someone to trust. Just a fuck. At best, a step above an inanimate object; at worst, someone to find what's left of my ability to love and destroy it.
You think I'm angry at god, but you're missing the point. It's not that I think god is unfair, it's that I have lost all hope that there could be anything more than this. No heaven, no god, not a god damn fucking thing. No reason to live, no reason to die. But I'm glad you don't understand, because it's hell this way.
You think I drink to forget the pain, but you're missing the point. I want to forget the high, the feeling of love I'll never be able to feel again. The memory of a comforting lie that makes any attempt at feeling loved again an exercise in futility.
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