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I fucking hate myself for still thinking about you. I don’t know why I even care to think about you. I know it’s not because of lust for you or so I’m pretty sure of it. I don’t really think much about just having sex with you. I constantly think all the stupid random questions I can ask you and wait to hear a logical explanation/answer to my question. I want to hear your voice but I know I never will. I would like to get to know you better and ask you questions like what was your favorite color when you were 5 and what is your favorite color currently and has it ever changed from when you were 5 to now. I want to ask you if you were ever bullied or if you were a bully. I want to ask you how many times you fell going up the stairs. I just wish to get to know you. I kind of wish you and I became friends.

Attachment leads to suffering.
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