𝘈𝘯𝘵𝘰𝘯ë𝘭𝘭𝘢 𝘋'𝘈́𝘷𝘪𝘭𝘢 𝘏ø𝘧𝘧𝘮𝘢𝘯𝘯

I still hate embraces. The discomfort of borrowed sincerity, the unbearable weight of the world striking me again and again. I remember. I see tear-soaked cheeks. I whisper something that sounds almost impossible to hear, hoping that this time you'll choose to listen.

I still hate embraces. The discomfort of borrowed sincerity, the unbearable weight of the world striking me again and again. I remember. I see tear-soaked cheeks. I whisper something that sounds almost impossible to hear, hoping that this time you'll choose to listen.