And when at last you find someone to whom you feel you can pour out your soul, you stop in shock at the words you utter- they are so rusty, so ugly, so meaningless and feeble from being kept in the small cramped dark inside you for so long.
so i've been telling everyone everything and now i don't even look for someone to pour my soul out to because there's nothing left to tell.
all that there was to tell has been said by what i've told now.
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