So, there's this guy. This beautiful, brilliant, sexy beast of a guy. There's something about him, this thing I can't seem to get over, a habit of his, that makes him sort of an ass. And it kills whatever we could've been.
It is the saddest thing: sad people becoming sadder together. Already contagious loneliness amplified by the bittersweet taste of an almost-love, gnawing at our hearts every time we meet. Masochistic, really.
I still hold out for him, though. Whether it be mail, phone, text - I keep waiting, wishing for it. Guess I'm an idiot that way.
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