I looked back at the painting ... Stay bad on the hippocampus wall. A little blurry but still understandable. I know everything will never be repeated, I know you won't come back. They say I'm too obsessed with you, I say this is not enslaving myself into something that is not real. It's because I'm in love. They say again ... "No, love is not real, love is only for those who deserve to be loved" now I believe their words "I've never been in the right position." I tried to format all the contents of my hippocampus about you, I tried to delete them, Because I don't deserve that memory.
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