It's not even midnight yet, and I'm sobbing my eyes out.
I'm so very pissed - it's embarrassing for everyone who's witnessed.
It's TEN years ago and I love him, smell his scent and am remembered of when I, we were eighteen.
I'm just as vulnerable.
Today, I met my first love. Probably my only love, my true love.
Why haven't we been able to tell each other how we felt ten years ago? Why does this have to end in a (Russian) tragedy?
Why am I the one telling him he needs time for himself when I could be the cure, without any conflicts or obligations?
Why does life/ love need to be so very difficult, when the solution is so extremely easy?
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