The Process

I found myself entirely disturbed by the indecisiveness of this fickle process while you remained cool, distant. Wanting me to be something I already am, and at the same time, never could be. There was no freedom in it. Even the slight to severe changes were not enough to keep my interest. Even so, my interest was intangibly kept. Xanax and whiskey helped, however frequently, you did not. Still I fucking loved you. As always, youth beauty and light shone through. I simply enjoyed knowing this part of you.

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