August, 11th

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a good old friend trying to reach out back is one of the nicest things life can offer,

but i'm getting tired of lying, so please;

can you skip the part where you ask me how am i doing?

let's jump to the part where you told me what you had for breakfast earlier. the books you bought recently. the songs you listened to these days. about the traffic. news. government. the new building around the corner. a celebrity who just married another celebrity. recommending restaurants and cafes; all the boring things.

because those, those you can ask me. those, i can tell you.

but i can't tell you about the battles i lost when you expected me to win. the wars i only won a few, a very few, irrelevant ones nobody ever noticed. the fights i don't plan to win. the things i gave up. scars i failed to heal. nightmares that keeps coming back creeping at every corner i thought i have forgotten. weights i thought i would never have to bear.

i can't tell you how i have become everything you thought i wouldn't. i can't tell you how i don't become everything you thought i would.


- i can't tell you i'm fine.

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