Juanita, things aren't going as smoothly as I'd hoped. I try to catch my breath, but I only choke. In my head I walk through Zachary's old neighborhood. I need another warm reminder that I didn't always feel this way. I didn't always feel this way. It's shitty how it all turned with the things that we don't talk about. Our parents, they did their best, but it won't stop the aching in our chests. Sometimes I feel like I'm not enough. I know I can be an asshole, but I'm growing up on borrowed time. How can I love someone when I don't love myself?
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