Even though we all knew that we were doomed from the start, somehow everything seemed so full of promise. We questioned whether or not love was a viable response to sexual stimuli or if it was something else entirely, some yawning desperation. Some great and horrifying beauty that we could not possibly reveal for fear of the unknowns of the forgotten things.
Was there ever a together in the sense that we wanted there to be? What separation anxieties do you breed? What names do you give them? Loves, loves.
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