The More I Suffer, The More I

It Was More Dangerous Not To Go; I Was Running The Risk Of Becoming Trapped In My Own Fantasies. So I Was Doing The Right Thing By Going. She Would Behave Normally, I Would Behave Normally, And Everything Would Be Normal Again.

In The Past, I Had Particularly Loved Her Smell. She Always Smelled Freshed, Freshly Washed Or Of Freshed Laundry Or Fresh Sweat Or Freshly Loved

So I Was Still Guilty. And If I Was Not Guilty Because One Cannot Be Guilty Of Betraying A Criminal, Then I Was Guilty Of Having Loved A Criminal.

Why Does What Was Beautiful Shatter In Hindsight Because It Concealed Dark Truths?

Sometimes The Memory Of Happiness Cannot Stay True Because It Ended Unhappily.