Rebirth

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I wanted to hear from you today, I could’ve used your words. You would have said some poetic shit about how nothing was meant to last forever, except maybe our words, but even those will be forgotten over time. Don’t think I’m saying your words are shit, it’s only how I talk when I’m feeling like this and too often I censor myself for the little ears and eyes that I don’t think could handle the vulgarity of it. I save those words for my bound pages. I thought about writing in those bound pages today, I almost did, but so far I haven’t tainted them with what I write that I feel is crap. I’ve ripped a few out and will probably rip out many more before I decide the book is useless. What I really want to do is let you destroy me from the inside out, not literally of course, unless it would make you smile, but figuratively, so that I can start the process of being reborn. I feel dirty and disgusting right now, it’s what the building rage does to me, and a total reconstruction of my soul is the only solution. But the process is so damn exhausting and while I crave solitude, I become lonely when I’m in the depths of it. I don’t know what I’m trying to say. I needed to talk to you today. I wanted to be reborn.

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