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while sifting amongst the copious amounts of miscellaneous items under my bed, i found your old t-shirt. the blue one with the white writing that i refused to take off for the longest time. the one i wore when my lips had their final departure from yours. the one that dried my tears as i boarded my plane that early july morning, because in the pit of my stomach i knew it would be the last time i would ever see you. tears fell from my eyes at the nostalgia of it all, and i couldn’t help but smile at the irony of the situation. this t-shirt, all crumpled up and forget about, was just another metaphor for the relationship that you and i once shared, the relationship that is crumpled up and forgotten.
im over it, but it still hurts sometimes (via sad-disposition)
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