It really is pitiful
how much I think about you.

There are many possibilities, possibilities that you are laughing at me; that you think I’m pathetic for swimming in my idiosyncrasies; that so much to my own ridicule you find it stupid that I had the audacity to assume that there was something happening between us.

But this labyrinth was void of any feelings belonging to you.
This was all mine.

And none of it was ever real.

Nothing real ever happened
Everything was an illusion

Everything merely happened in my head


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