It’s not that I miss you; it’s the memories— or rather this surreal idea I’ve created in my head about you. Because I can’t even properly remember how you were like, I glorified your being and meaning to me. The things in my head about what I think we had, what we could have had, are all my selfish whims of wanting to relive our past and be with you again.

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my anaconda don’t, my anaconda don’t, my anaconda don’t want none unless u got chicken nuggets w/ various dipping sauces, hun.

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