i can't believe i had the courage to say some of the things that i did to you. of course, i edited it, stopped myself before i used the words that may have truly change the way we are.
but who am i to judge? for everytime he lies to himself, pushes a feeling, a notion away, i know there is a piece of myself that i hide, that i coverup. at least he has the courage to write about it. or rather, has found the ability to release it in some way. i don't know how. i am too afraid that i will be seen, judged.
too young, they say. and too old, i call him. if we met in the middle, we might act our age.
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