IX. Aftermath

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"Strip away all the memories we made," I begged to the silent forces surrounding my loneliness

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"Strip away all the memories we made," I begged to the silent forces surrounding my loneliness. It matters naught anyway. Every vivid scenery is bound to burn or break with every mistake made. With every opportunity we threw away.

A headache pounds against my head, crumbling all coherent speech spilling from my chest.

I'm losing faith beneath the cacophony of lies you said. "Perhaps if I close my eyes everything will be alright."

For tonight here I lay, heartbroken, defenseless.

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