Seeking A Friend For The End of the World

I think one of the most difficult things about a past, is knowing that there’s a hole in her heart that someone has left behind. It’s like writing a poem on faded scribbles; use an eraser and you just end up tearing the page. Turning a new page is easy, but it’s painful to know that there’s a chance, just a small, tiny chance, that your story isn’t quite as interesting as the previous page.

But perhaps the greatest struggle is trusting that they won’t flip back.

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