It confounds me how many times I’ve said goodbye in my life and still — I’d rather die every time I’m forced to step forward into its foreboding, skittery dance. This treacherous ordeal of saying farewell, this naked confession of emotional servitude
The Good in Goodbye
It confounds me how many times I’ve said goodbye in my life and still — I’d rather die every time I’m forced to step forward into its foreboding, skittery dance. This treacherous ordeal of saying farewell, this naked confession of emotional servitude
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