The story of us.

The story I don’t want to write is the story I wish I could write. It’s the one that keeps me up at night. The one I keep dancing around. The story of us.

I spend so much time trying to convince myself it was nothing. I’m having limited success. I despise you. I never want to see you or hear from you again.

Lies I tell myself.

I don’t want to write about you because I don’t want to remember how much fun it was and how alive you made me feel because the reality of the us makes me feel like a fool.

I was wrong and I don’t like being wrong.

I want the story of us to be over. I don’t want to feel these feelings or think these thoughts or deal with this bullshit anymore.

The story of us is irrelevant because the reality of us is nonexistent.

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