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Forgivable

The shadows dance on the trees, moving with the breeze, morphing into a silent rain that tickles me. The flashes of light flash me back to the night I remembered who I was and forgave again. Hurt again. Hope is lost on the brink of a smack in the face. The clouds slam your veins. You venture ecstatic embrace with ignorance to the innocence I lost among tracks of trace. The tar pours through the corners of your mouth like the blood of a dying soul, it drips in tune to the bobble of your reel lies. No surprise. Just another tally to my book of crooks haggling escape. I surmise.

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I have never really understood will power. I understand boredom. I think it's a waste of time to think about how boring your imagination is. You're so dull, you can't entertain yourself, but I get it. I've had will power, and I like to think that once you've experienced something, it increases your knowledge of said something. But when I weigh out the benefits of telling yourself what you want, and then sticking to it, it falls short on the scale next to living in the moment. Making crazy, off the wall, out of the blue, stupid decisions is part of being human, it's part of the human experience. I can't understand why people don't want to make bad decisions. It was one of "those days." The kind of emotional girl roller coaster days you'd see in a rom com where the girl is taking turns comforting herself in greasy french fries and Tom Hanks' love stories with whatever her name is with the orgasms, except there were drugs, and it wa...