must come back, this time. Same shit with all my fears that are fears no more; but passion, friendship, my beautiful fes, those I catched and will have to leave in 30 days, one month. And it hurts not knowing what to feel, if fear, if a little nervous inside my stomach full of butterflies, butter. But the compromise of having to leave, that could not be worse.
Hate being so me again. Hate it, but it gotta be, I have to go back. Tomorrow.
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