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I wouldn’t know what season it is. In this city, you can go from winter to spring and then autumm before noon. But I can smell the green grass. When I was a kid, I never noticed these things. I was probably too busy picking only the white parts of the sidewalk.

I’ve been always too busy tearing things apart to ever notice their whole; and their surroudings.

And then you. Broken and shattered that I needed so badly to built back up. Like a little project I’d dedicate myself to and not take the credit for it. I wouldn’t take credit for it.

If there’s anything I should’ve learned is that you can’t fix someone. I think my only contribution to you was when I finally let you go – at least that’s what it seemed at the time. It’s not too much to think that I was slowing you down.

It’s been said so many times before that it’s not really the person you miss, but the way they made you feel. Except I now feel like I’ve never known you like I wish I did. What did it all mean anyway, then?

Once again, I’m missing something I haven’t lived, experienced, created or shared.

You said: I don’t understand you.
And then it hit me the sooner we realize we aren’t here to compreheend anyone, let alone ourselves, maybe everything would be less heavy. Here’s to another share of the same mistakes over and over again. To knowing it and doing it anyway.

listening while writing: Sharon Van Etten – Magic Chords

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