Can you imagine how it feels to still have relentlessly shaking hands? Feel like I planned a thousand things that fell apart at seams I hadn't fully sewn. Thinking a thousand things a second and nothing's seeming productive. Full plate, empty stomach, counterprogressive.
Putting everything on your shoulders and wishing we could dig our way out of loneliness. Know it won't happen 'til you're next to me all the time. Apologizing in my head and unable to form the words. Sorry, sorry, sorry.
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