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He said that we can still be friends. But how can I look at him in the eye when someone else is draped around his hand? How can I look at him when he is kissing someone else while I can hear my whole heartstring with pain, shattering into a million pieces so loudly that it deafens me? How can we still be friends when I have to hide my tears and bite my inner cheek when he's talking of her? Maybe he meant we could be the kind of strangers with distant memories that we don't often remember unless we see them in old photographs or hear their voices down the allies. Oh god, we cannot be friends when your voice hurts me and your face reminds me of every night I wished to be enough. Friends don't look at each other wishing they were something more.

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