It's 3am: her pillow is stained with saline mixed with traces of black mascara and fallen eyelashes. She isn't the type of girl who would normally mask her face with makeup, but she needs it now to feel beautiful; he never told her she was. While fighting back tears she writes herself a note. It's everything she feels, but can never find the strength to say: "it's time to say goodbye, you'll always have a piece of me."
I'm sorry.
Tuesday, August 18, 2009
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