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The Art Of War.



I don't like to fail. I hate to fail. But I'm not afraid of it.


I haven’t forgotten my art of war. I am still matching you chess move for chess move. I just don’t care to engage anymore. Once upon a time I thought you telling me that you loved me meant something. Now I just think it’s meaningless like everything’s else in our fucked up fatal fairy tale. I do think if you wanted me you’d come to me in an instant and for all my attempts to come to you is just mind manipulation to what end and agenda I don’t know. Mines transparent, my emotions on my sleeve.


Within six months more likely within a few weeks you’ll be calling again and I will always fall for it, that’s how I know it’s real. I’m under you’re spell and I’m under you’re skin. You and I share a blood tie but it’s more than that it always has been. I only call one person on this earth soulmate. Even if we are fucked up shattered and broken, you are the missing piece of my soul. And I will always be here to try. Even thru my gritted teeth.


I’m not angry or bitter at you right now. I’m just disappointed. You’re decision, you’re behaviours and how they affect all our lives. That’s you’re cross to bear not mine.

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