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Dear Sad Person You,

I still can't believe that you had sex with her. I don't wanna even think about you, touching her soft skin that you want to get all those Happy People Them to notice you love. I almost laughed when I saw you smiling at her during classes when she looked at you, but then you rolled your eyes, huffed and puffed. I didn't, just because I almost chocked on my own spit, noticing that you were looking right at me, or better, trying to, because we are too far away from each other to have close glances. It's better like this. I wouldn't stop sweating and it would be so awkward.
By the way, I miss feeling your touch. Please, if you feel like you have to punch me, do it. At least I can be closer to you, like this.
I took a picture of you with my Polaroid. It's so beautiful. I liked watching developing the image on the film. I thought the process was like your appearance in my life: slow and gradual, so fading but you're still there, in all of your shades.
Yours sincerely,

-Sad Person Me

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