There's always too much information to process: a brain overloaded with nightmarish and vile memories, always removing past from where it belongs and placing it in places like under my bed and at the back of my ear. There's too much screaming scattered inside and outside my head.
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Sometimes past will hunt us down like freak. Let it get you and let it pass by. It does not matter anymore, it' a past written story. Write you own for now, with me. I'll be beside you as long as you wish. ♥
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