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All I Believe In Walks Out The Door

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I can remember when i felt so happy to talk to someone, not manic happy, not drunk happy, not drug happy, real happy.

Knowing that you will never see that person again makes you dependant on the thought of that person, a memory, and with time a fantasy.

You become so dependant on that person that you hear their voice, and when your alone you see them there in the room, looking at you, and it feels so real, so real that you see them wherever you are, you have a conversation, but it's not real, your mind is just beating you up, showing you your heart.

Sometimes it gets so bad you feel them with you: Holding you, Touching you, Hugging you, Kissing you.

It's not real, nut in a way it is, it's like a living dream, a delusion, but you want that delusion to be real, so you revolve your life around it and it puts you in a position that your dream is life, you are living your dream, your dream is your life and it's all you can think about.





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