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I never knew her the way she knew me. She would always say things that made me cry. There were times when I had no desire to care. But she always worried about me. Maybe I was the world to her. Maybe she would wake me up just to see me. But I knew nothing about her. She always tried to explain herself but I never understood why. I thought I was no better than anyone to have her as a friend. But something about me made her beautiful.

Reciprocating was awkward for me because I never learned to love. My parents were always busy doing missionary work. They left me alone to my solitude and never showed me any affection. I guess resentment is bad but I blamed them for my shortcomings. Maybe she knew about my shortcomings yet found them worth accepting.

Sometimes she looked into my eyes. She wanted to cover my nakedness with her love. I felt ashamed but then got used to her eyes. Then, for some reason or another I lost interest. The world had no meaning and no purpose. My life was good enough to live just to have her around. Her beauty turned out to be fading. I think she looked too much into me; I think she should have looked outside of it.

The problem was that we looked at opposite things. She never got tired of knowing me but I somehow could not keep looking at her. She had kindness and generosity but nothing unique about her personality. Maybe that is why I became indifferent. Everything she said was always a repetition and her words never made me feel alive. I admit her company was better than my solitude. I never thought someone so wonderful would think so much about someone like me. I suppose she appreciated all those things I said that made her happy.




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The following comments are for "Her"
by tkal317





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