You stupid thought being the only one again, hm? The call in the middle of the night. When all youre friends had far too much wine already. You tell this story of ‚again‘ and ‚you somehow felt it, something changed, it turned from being easy to stomache pain‘.

Well, milord, come down. Even if this is the worst advice for the moment. Yes, we know that. Yes, we had that before as well. No, it doesn’t make sense. And yep, all people lie and are egoistic. Fuck love. It’s about not being alone (in general), having a god damn good time, feeling somehow of beautiful in someone else eyes, and then this PAIN comes. Your veins call out, you bastard are alive again.

Honey, come over to me. We’ll visit a good old pub. With good old music. Let the singers tell us what this bloody feeling is all about. Let tell us that we’re nighter the first, nor will be the last. And that it doesn’t get less painful with the time. Just more ‚hell, not again‘.

And then we’ll get drunk.

Just to see, on this bloody tomorrow, that we’re god damn humans. Hate it. Lost the fun again. But came down-again. To have a friend. Who cares. A lot.

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