Dienstag, April 22


I painted my wall white, cleaned of the dirty memories of days that never happened. I crossed off all the words, all the numbers, to get rid of what I once spend hours staring at. The rows of numbers, counting down to the days I looked forward to the most, stopping somewhere around seven when it was clear that those days would never happen, are now gone along with the paintings you inspired me to. I got rid of words I don't even remember, but I never thought a blank wall could hold so much memories of feelings that will never vanish.

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