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fluttering beats in the dark
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alexithymia
The forces of change always win in the end. The ancient oak tree falls. The ocean eats the coast away. The young dragon kills the old one.
In the fell clutch of circumstance I have not winced nor cried aloud. Under the bludgeonings of chance My head is bloody, but unbowed.
Love is not something I was made for.
There's always a price to pay for everything. Consequences for every choice, every action. Even if neither choice is palatable. You just need to ask yourself which consequences can you survive.
Tears aren't weak; sometimes they're the only things that can heal.
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