It’s so easy to remember the words that he said and the way that you felt when he touched you, but you need to remember how rotten his insides are. You need to remember how cruel and disheartening he turned out to be.

Why is it so fucking hard to forget the good things?

Forget. Forget. Forget.

He is just a memory and I hope to god that one day, I won’t remember him at all.

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Full of angst and love.
24. Queer. The best you've never had.
San Francisco Bay Area.

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