To you:
I love you but not the way you want me to.
I'll always be sorry that I lied to you and didn't say this, but it still seems like it was the best way to go back then. We were young and I was leaving to school and we knew it was just that brief interlude.

And to you:
I will always be a disappointment to you, no matter how much you deny it.
I see your other hopes and dreams and I see the way you have stored them for me, instead of throwing them away. It's a waste of space.

And you: (Yes, you:)
I will never forget you.
I will always be searching for the answers to your questions, they have become my questions now, too. As long as they remain unanswered I will struggle with the pain of having known you and leaving.

There are a few things that I would like for you to have, along with my heart:

    There are my tears, which are instantly dissolved, as you stand up and smile.


So, here they are, wrapped carelessly in a medium paper bag, no ribbons attached. It shouldn't be too hard to find a proper place for them, since they're relatively small, insignificant belongings, that don't take up much vital space.

You must keep in mind not to leave them recklessly around, because you might accidentally stumble and step on them.

Will you, please, allow me the pleasure of possessing them?

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