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I felt like dry ice—frozen solid and painful to whoever tried to hold on to me for too long.
When love arrived, you couldn’t shut it off like a faucet. It kept pouring out of you, uncontrollably, even when you wanted the pressure of it to stop.
Hurt people have a way of hurting others. Not even on purpose, but it happens. That’s the problem with making decisions during stretches of temporary sadness or struggle. You sometimes shoot bullets at people who didn’t deserve to be shot.
