Isn’t it funny how after all that you’ve put me through, your face is the last thing on my mind before drifting off to sleep at night? Your voice echoes and resonates in my head as a constant reminder that I can never have you. Your fingerprints are etched into my heart and it’s something I can’t erase no matter how hard I try. But why? You hurt me in the worst way possible. I shouldn’t want you, crave you, as much as I do at this very moment. It makes me sick to my stomach the way you still have me wrapped around your finger. The moment I think I’m finally free, you come right back to haunt me once more and I willingly give out second chances to you like candy. It’s a sick, twisted cycle that I wish I could stop. You broke me. I’m still attempting to pick up the pieces and somehow glue myself together again. I know I deserve better, that I can do better than this. But yet, isn’t it funny that I still pray that my face is the last thing on your mind before drifting off to sleep at night?

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