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I want the real thing. I want love, someone who makes me feel special.
I want a boyfriend who's proud of me, tells his friends all about me.
And most of all, I want to find the main reason for my existance.
But everytime that I'm close to this kind of thing, something about me is in the way.
Sometimes my looks, sometimes my feelings, sometimes...
Is there something wrong with me or is it true?
Is it true that some people are not made to love and be loved?
Without him, I can't live anymore. With him, it hurts to be me.
The question is: What is worse? Dying or hurting?
Categorie:Selfmade emotional shit.
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