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There’s a deep emptiness that’s easy to ignore. I’m only reminded when I see something that I like, something that I might enjoy. But these things are always a little insane, a little crazy, a little out of reach. Or maybe I’m supposed to ignore this

Why’s it always gotta be about desperation with me? This place is a fucking desert. Mirages and shit. Nothing’s gonna satisfy me. But my life isn’t mine to take. I’ll live and I’ll hope that something comes up. I’ll hope that my God loves me.

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