You are the calamansi to my Prinsepe Abante’s sugat.

It stings.

When all the hate subsided and the only ones that’s left with you is your empty room and your empty heart, it just stings so bad. It’s a loop of unhappiness.

They say that this is the worst thing ever. I kid you not, but man was it the worst. Lately I’ve been thinking a lot about things I’ve avoided wondering about years ago. Yesterday morning was the worst. I was staring blankly to the wall and started writing things. It was close to the blackout I had in 2013.

I feel lonely.

I’m afraid that they’ll find a way back to me. It’s so fucking awful.

I’ve been thinking about you so much lately. Apparently you’ll always be the death of me.


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