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Really, Chelsea? ...wow.
"Life’s but a walking shadow; a poor player, that struts and frets his hour upon the stage, and then is heard no more: it is a tale told by an idiot, full of sound and fury, signifying nothing."

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Monday
Short time.

Last week I laughed. And smiled. I felt whole and blessed. I held your hand and laughed. You held my soul and I smiled. It was whole. But you didn’t care.
Yesterday I thought. And recalled. They were deep thoughts. I thought about you and recalled moments about you. I disbelieved and smiled. It was provoking. But you didn’t care.
Last night I realised. Came to my senses. It was a cruel realisation. What I realised about you and convinced myself of you. I hated it and cried. It was painful. But you didn’t care.
Earlier I questioned. Attempted to reconcile. I felt small and weak. I held your hand and you laughed. You held my soul and I cried. It was broke. But you didn’t care.
But today I continued. And denied. I denied weak. I held your soul and let go. I walked away and you cried. It was finished. And you did care.