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Vladimir Mayakovsky, from a letter featured in "Love in the Heart of Everything; The Correspondence between Vladimir Mayakovsky & Lili Brik, 1915-1930,"
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Vladimir Mayakovsky, from a letter featured in "Love in the Heart of Everything; The Correspondence between Vladimir Mayakovsky & Lili Brik, 1915-1930,"
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Paul Verlaine, from Modern Poets of France: An Anthology; "I've Had No Luck With Women,"
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everything feels like a lie
i hate this loneliness
i wish to die
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it all feels like lies am i even a person anymore
i wanna be a person or at least feel like one
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i’m glad i still have here where i can just scream i don’t know why i’m still here i’m just tired of living i feel like a candle in a rushing river and i feel like the only reason im still here is because im a weak willed coward i just want to let go
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everything hurts again I don’t want to hurt anyone ever again
#It’s hard to think I deserve love when all I did was squander it#I feel so sick#why can’t I end it#Why am I still here#why am I such a coward
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I thought we were chill the fuck I thought we maintained a decent distance
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what the fuck is wrong with me I’m so sick of causing pain I just want to be something that can be loved and be worth that love
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it can’t be me can it I don’t know think I should entertain that thought
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But have you thanked yourself for carrying you this far yet?
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