all my free time is spent covering journal pages with our blood that i've drawn. oil and water the way we show up on a page but in the way we each have little bits of the other flurried inside of our hearts, lungs, guts, etc(too prominent and not assimilated enough for people to brush off). Dear Diary, they're miles away but mixed into my bone marrow. Dear Diary, they're crawling out of my sternum without any attempt at bandaging me up
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