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"Does it hurt." I asked bitterly.

"Does what hurt?" Patient. Caring. He was never harsh with his words, like I.

Perhaps it was knowing how to strike down even the strongest man with a sharp tongue that made me cold.

He was warm. I could never allow myself to be close with him, even if every fibre of my being screamed for it.

No, because I'd draw the warmth from him, keep it, and he'd be cold.

"Loving someone so deeply that oceans are shallow pits compared to the depth of your feeling."

It does hurt.

"I feel high on the feeling of loving and it makes me numb, like I can't feel a thing until it wears off. I suppose it's being out of love that hurts." I exhale slowly, watching my breath turn into puffy clouds of white, dissipating into the distance.

"Is there a cure?" I say quietly.

"To what?"

"To being in love. It's like an illness, it takes over you and controls your thoughts and emotions, you don't even know who you are anymore because it's like your being has been emptied and all that's left is a whirlwind, not a person. Just a jumble of thoughts swirling around at hyper speeds."

"Is that what we are then? Whirlwinds?"

"I guess so."

-excerpt from my NaNoWriMo book which I never actually completed lolol

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