Like how you know things won't end well, yet you keep on trying & trying, day by day, hoping for... I don't know, a change? Or maybe just a hint of hope?
No matter how small of a hope it may be.
Because it's like pulling out a thorn from that sweet-smelling rose you held on to for too long, so long that the thorn has now became a part of your skin. So when you finally pull it out, you stare at the scar it made and you wonder how long will it take for your skin to heal this time.
But at the same time, you know that the longer you keep the thorn there, the more it's gonna hurt.
All the while having this thought at the back of your mind - what if you had kept that rose just a minute longer... would there be a chance for things to be different?
Z.
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