I could have done something. No, I SHOULD have done something. He was right, they were all right. I kept to myself too much and I was too stubborn, self-centered and stupid to see that they did in fact cared about my problems, my life, me. But it's too late, and now he's gone, they're all gone, and it's all my fault...
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There is a war raging within me, a constant battle between what I know and what I feel.
My priorities became a blur after you happened, and absence never felt so real.