Things always feel better after a single sip, and the sensation of moments fading with the movements of the hand on the clock, feels even better.

Sadness will always be part of my happy moments, just because of that, because of the fading and the ending, and in some sort of depressive matter, I'm in love of the sadness... it's magical.

They've been there, not many... waiting for a let go or a glimpse of trust, maybe a sign of belonging or smiles of commitment... but I can't keep my feet moving just to jump and embrace it.

I've felt that before, it's burn me before, I've tasted it already and the sadness that I hold on to so hard still calls out for me, but I don't seem to believe in that magic for my own, because I still find myself waiting for the known.
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