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I was cleaning out my sock drawer. It's right next to my couch and usually hangs half open, so it becomes the deposit spot for all sorts of assorted stuff.
I found a shirt.
A thin white t shirt.
The kind men wear as an undershirt.
Towncraft thin white t shirt.
And I knew what it was.
And I brought it up to my face and smelled it.
And I started crying.
I miss how he smells.
I miss laying my head on his chest and hearing him breath.
I miss how he never got tired of just holding me.
We had so many good things.
And they were SO good. Not just a little good.
They were incredible.
That's exactly why the bad was SO bad.
That's why the unhappiness was so utterly black
because while I loved having him there to hold
I hated knowing I didn't love him.
I could only love him.
that was the only way we could be together
If I loved him just as feverishly as he proclaimed to love me.
And I just didn't.
So I lied.
I lied.
That was my sin. I lied. And I did it often. I repeated that little lie so much.
And for a good while I really thought it was true. I'm a convincing liar.
And I lied so that I could have him around.
Becuase just the pleasure of my company was not enough without proclamations of devotion and utter and complete love.
I could never just have his company, his arms, his body wrapped around me.. his laughter... his humor and his humanity... not without lying.


I hate that that's the truth.
But that's what it was.
and I hate that I know that I'd do it again.

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maddening
A Non-Newtonian Fluid

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