memories.

they’re all i feel that i have left of you.

you never look at me.

you never talk to me.

you never acknowledge me.

why?

why won’t you do those things?

am i that ugly?

is my voice that horrible?

am i not a person anymore?

why?

why do you hate me?

i’m sorry.

so,

so sorry.

i’m sorry for existing.

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