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That longing ache of desperately wanting something I never actually had in the first place, I’m learning, is the pain of true disappointment.
In grief all the little flaws of those we loved are colored over.
I have changed and that is everything.
To think is to feel. To feel is to acknowledge hope. And hope is agony. Hope is cruel.
Humankind is everything’s and everyone’s most dangerous predator. Blindly killing its own planet, slowly wounding it over the centuries. Forcing my generation to mop up the blood.
