January 15ᵗʰ ─ 7:32 ᵃᵐ

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{Edited}

Jan. 15th

7:32 am


I lie on my side, my eyes open as I picked at the thread of the duvet, eventually I got annoyed when the thread wouldn't tear immediately out of the comforter. I sat up, looking over at Michael, his eyes were closed.

He was sitting in the bedside chair, his head was slanted and he was snoring slightly. The sun cast a bright pool of light against his face, he almost looked like an angel.

I don't know why I've began to feel guilty about being angry at him.

Michael has a good heart, and he had a reason for almost leaving.

He didn't create Dirty Diana, he didn't create Wacko Jacko, not everything that goes on is his fault.

And he just needs to understand that.

I crawled out of bed and grabbed a robe, I bit my lip, gazing at his face, before padding into the bathroom.


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