Now is not the best time to find out you're never coming back. I wish that I had known you better, but the sentiment is meaningless in retrospect. But it doesn't really matter, 'cause now you're gone. And if I linger in places we used to go, does it make me a creep? My friends tell me not to, but I will try to hold on to hope that one day you'll come back for me. This poisonous nostalgia drains vitality, and maybe it's just my vanity but I really thought I had the strength to keep my grip. I'm so sorry I can't hold on. I begin to slip...and I fall, and I fall. And I realize it's not strength at all that kept me hanging on, just desperation. But it doesn't really matter, 'cause now you're gone. And if I linger in places we used to go, I'll just be a creep. My friends were all right to warn me, I'm through trying to hold on to hope that one day you'll come back for me. All I recall through this veil looks like gold, until the present truth breaks through, revealing memories stale and old. Like Dorian Gray's portrait, when he finally saw himself; he crumbled into ash, ravaged by time and disenchanted health.
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