thirteen • butterflies

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March 26, 1977

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March 26, 1977

Dear Sirius,

I'm still into you. Whenever I look at you it isn't like I get nervous butterflies, it feels more like I just want to get up and stop what I'm doing to kiss you.

It's incredibly hard not to. You don't love me. At least that is what I think when I'm alone but when I'm with you I can't help but feel that I might just be enough.

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