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Draft Message.

To: S.

November 24, 8:52 pm.

Holy shit.

It's almost been one month. I still haven't had the guts to talk to you. I haven't asked you even one third of everything I wanted to ask you since the day I read every single one of those texts. I don't know if I'll ever have the courage to man up, grow some balls and ask you everything. 

I don't know why I'm doing this. You made the same thing I'm doing now for months and it helped you by the looks of it. I've been trying to keep myself busy for the last couple of weeks because every time I stop to think, an overwhelming guilt rushes over.

Maybe it's something I'll have to live with for the rest of my life. Knowing what I lost. Knowing that I knew what I was losing, but still didn't do anything to prevent it from happening.

And now you're gone. Hell, I don't know if I'll ever find a way to forgive myself for this because I know that the only one to blame is me and this fucking haunts me.

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