13 years
x
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i dont know why time passes anymore other than for the sake of consistency. there is no end, only means, and i don’t know why the endurance of time should be of value. it is the worst confession–meaningless and obsequious–but i am in love. in love with something that is unobtainable–manifest in someone obtainable. there is no thing, no thing that i will be of worth to. i hate being alive.

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