Last night, I slept like a baby. I woke up every hour and cried.
I'm going to sneak out on Wednesday night, when everyone's going to be concentrating on other things. I'm going back home. For the same reason I always do. I wonder if it'll be worth the effort. Or even if it'll be worth the absolute, defining, God-awful pain just to see him again. Weird thing is... I think it will. I'm such a ******** idiot when it comes to love.
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