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Thursday, June 2

It hurts more every time.

Had a dream that we were in love. Woke up, devastated, in my old house in Chicago, in the bed where my grandma used to sleep. Woke up from the dream and immediately called you. In the background, I could hear Katherine and Will and Ricky. Confused, I got out of bed and immediately stumbled into the hallway. The whole band was standing in the hallway, but Will didn't look like Will. No one looked like anyone except for you. 

"Are we still not talking?" I asked the general hallway group (Katherine and Lauren and other people were there, too)
"No. He's agreed to talk to you." That was Danny, but not really Danny.

We walked into my parents old room. I immediately started crying, and you just looked around, looking at everything but me. I wanted to hug you so badly. To hold your hand. To touch your hair. Anything.

"Why, James? Why?" I knew everyone could hear me. I didn't care.
"I don't know. I don't know." You still refused to look at me.

"But James, please." I was begging again. I was begging again, and I knew that it wouldn't make a difference.
"It's not worth it. It was never worth it."

I woke up, again, this time here, in real life, on this tiny, itchy couch, crying. But I didn't call you.
I will not call you.

Because I am so tired of hearing that I'm not worth it anymore.

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