Notes
love was always a mystery. it still is, actually. is it the caring? the worrying ever-present, a cricket on a summer night, both annoying and familiarly comforting. the longing? the memory flashbacks and deja vus, putting a foot forward waiting for a step that is just not there. is it the missing? a phantom limb of wanting to share. is love an absence? are we truly no longer whole?
— I’m sad and I miss you and I guess – ugh – in love.
I do not own any of the songs or pictures. Credits to the rightful owners.
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