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Lavínia

Lavínia

plalace
Feb 19, 2024
107
dusty, dirty palace, so dirty. Smoky puffs, tears swing in the air. They were mine, they were in my body. Before in my glass, I consumed what I expressed. To cry, I need water. I need things to express, dependent.
Injury, my feet move slowly. My eyes waver, what moves calls me. I don't want to look at things, innate instinct.
Itching that doesn't go away, in my head, skin and bones. Empty space, big cracks. Greater pressure, let's do magic.

Today my day was calmer, I think. I'm afraid again, of punishment, of having made a mistake. I haven't bought SN yet, I haven't managed to do it yet. I'm smoking more, there were 2 today, and 3 yesterday. I wanted to go to college too.
I've become a symbol, at work I'm a figure. Someone funny and affectionate, dedicated and attentive. Why does it seem like a lie? It's me there, doing things and talking. It seems like a lie, and it hurts so much to seem like one. I'm not a liar, I'm not, it's me
 
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