All my lost, unrequited loves have become the same ghosts.
They perch on my shoulder as I sit alone. They remind me of my place in this life, a solitaire.
My mother’s womb made me the same mercurial creature that she is now. I am doomed to repeat her mistakes.A tragic fate, to be filled with unwavering and overwhelming amounts of love. Empathy that I cannot contain, nor understand. And not a recipient in site.
It is too perfect, and too beautiful a thing to love something that will not, will never love you back.
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