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Up Is Down

~Cali~

Thinking about how much time is composing a day - eighty-six thousand four hundred seconds - is making me head hurt. It’ll take too much movement from that second’s hand in the silver wall clock of my living room to reach that third day. It’ll take that much time before I see him again.

I survived the first set of twenty-four hours, almost on the brink of losing it. I did a lot of strenuous activities yesterday just to get him out of my mind.

He’s been running the entire day inside my head, I wonder if he ever gets tired.

I am exhausted though; I gave up on convincing myself that I don’t think about him. Because I do, I think about him every fucking second of the day since he left.

I want

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goodnovel comment avatar
shoto
are we ever getting even's pov?
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