What was my endgame? I know when I first saw you, I was set on you. But you have been upfront with where you are. You talked to me honestly but I was dumb. I kept waiting for you because of my own vanity.
What was my endgame? There wasn't one. I would look into our future and see nothing but a fuzzy, cloudy illusion. There can eventually be just one ending. There are infinite possible endings, but time will cement one in. My self-delusion was blissful since an end didn't exist.
I got caught up in the sweet, creamy cake batter of infatuation.
(once again I am fighting my need for validation through the attention of others. I make myself present consistently in their lives so that they don't forget about me. If I'm out of sight, then I'm out of mind. I do it to a point of obsession, and end up smothering people and driving them away)
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