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My heart is pounding. My head feels dizzy. I think it's fear or am I jealous? It bothers me for some reason. I'm borrowing such a small but insignificant cliché, but it's just one. It's love.
My heart flutters when I approach him, but after I love him, I release endorphins. I constantly repeat what I said, "I love you." I magically didn't expect it, but I heard a reply saying, "I love you, too."
Pulling, pushing, pushing and pulling. Even if you pick up the phone and stare at each other in vain, you often end up hanging up when you make a call. Maybe you're being led. Maybe it's too desperate. Maybe it's him. Even if you're afraid it's him, you feel pressured when you meet him, and you suffer from addiction that you want to see when you break up with him. A fatal disease in which even a small doubt or love doubles. And self-deprecation in a desperate situation. "As expected, it's not me." "It's just me." And then you break up... You miss him again, and you fight for pride again.
It's too easy. Love.
"It was so easy that you did it three times."
"At the end, there was a defect. It's because of some Dr. Stalker."
That's so mean. Just that one. I'll look at you with my eyes fixed for a moment, and you'll turn it around. It doesn't matter. Should I hit you with a cane? Or should I hold your head with my hand and turn it away? I have many thoughts, but nothing comes true. It's easy to abandon things like that.
"Shut up all the noise and watch this."
"No." The clipping sound. Just look at it. "I saw it." Do you think you'd have to get your ticket this close to you to find out?
"No, I'm busy."
"I'm not asking you to date me. What's wrong?"
"That's not it."
Looking at the hesitation, there must be something. "You slept with her, didn't you?"
"What do you mean? Slept?"
"You slept with. Her."
"What the hell is she? Stop talking like she's real." A friendly voice.
I'm so mad at this. "I can't say that if my eyes are open. Never." His small smile is like a naughty little sister. Come on, get your hands on it.
"I'm really busy, House." There's no point shaking your hands. Have you thought about how long that gesture has been?
"You're busy, but I'm not, am I?" I think you're staring, but it's more fun. Don't pique your interest. There's no point moving your walk around. I think I'd like to knock you over with a cane, but that's the difference between a four-legged beast and a human. Or is it because I want to see your walking form? I dig in quickly, but I rarely cross over. Let's call him, "Wilson!"
"Don't forget to call me at night!"
Call, me.
I'm going to die. Seriously, this time it's real. I'm going to be crushed by tons of Vicodin bottles at home, or hit my head with a cane anyway. Be prepared. Even after death, you can't undo what's already been done, even if you cry and scream, "I should've gone then. Monster Truck Final Decisions that are held once a year." I'm about to cry thinking about dying for no reason. Will you come if I shout "Please" in my heart?
Lupus, autoimmune, dermatitis, biopsy, Please.
Boring. Boring. Boring. Boring. If you find the word "boring" in the dictionary, you'll see me throwing the ball. Really. Call me. Call me. Bloody tickets. I was going to go even if I didn't have to hold both hands. Hell. Any worse curse words? I feel unsettled again at this and that.
Open it, Sesame! Open the door. I'm glad to hear that you're memorizing like a spell. No matter how many times you do this and that, you can't even use your hands if you're dating someone because they're always in a secret relationship. Isn't this why loyalty between men is a great law? Throw away tickets, nice catch.
"Just this once."
Yeah. Yeah, it doesn't matter if I'm being a kid or a pet dog to my mom. I just want the truck to break in front of me and I want you right next to it.
"As expected, it's fun."
"What?"
"Teasing you."
"Oh, yes."
"It's more fun to pretend to accept it and keep it in mind."
And
It's so easy.
Coaxing Wilson. Entice Wilson.
Cause He always coaxing himself.
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