I still don't know what it is called. I fell for the little things of someone, and I knew his worth, yet for some crazy reason timing didn't permit for that connection to blossom into a beautiful love. So maybe it wasn't love, I thought you'll show me what love is 'someday', but we never reached that. I still don't know what love is. So yes, that was an almost, my first fall.
I write still, for myself. Just for once, let me know, what you are going through now, do you still stay up late, have things changed. Is it too much to wish that you will write for me too? Maybe it is too much, maybe it's a childish thought. Why do I keep writing, I have no idea, I go on and on. Maybe it'll stop eventually, when I learn to keep it all inside me and smile.
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