I want you to picture me overeating and gaining weight rapidly.
I want you to imagine I Smell like bullshit and I don’t try to mask it with pleasantries.
Dream about my life, a life of wasted potential. I am wallowing in a bottomless pit of sadness.
I want you to wish hard that I’m crying and my heart pines for yours.
I want you to believe your actions were inconsequential, but spot on.
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