The me that's lost.

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I feel that the night always brings out the real me.

The me that's broken and lost

The me who wants things in life she knows she can't possibly have

The me who's downing shots of burning liquor just to get over the pain of reality

The me who's sitting on a pier gazing at the starry night wishing you were there with me telling me about constellations

The me who's debating whether or not to dial you up at 4a.m. and tell you how much I really want you

And when morning comes, it's the me who's walking around like a dazed zombie, going through reality's motions, smiling at everybody I know, putting up a cheerful front just for show, until night time comes.

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