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We ought to love the ones we destroy, if only to learn how to love again

A budding feeling grows inside me. Like a lost flower in a desolate place.

I know I don't deserve this yet. I tell myself this every day. But it's there, and I want to keep it, just in case something special blossoms. I'm frightened at the thought of losing it, and it's not as if I have it, but I can feel something special. Like the first time I had it. Like the first kiss around the same days as now. Bitter thoughts, painful memories, learning processes. I never want to make the same mistakes again.

Miles apart. There is still time for me to change, to improve, to strengthen what I lack, rather than bury myself with these Bunburyist tendencies. I don't want to live a lie. Like the first time I did it. Like the first words that came out of my mouth during those old times. Hostile thoughts, unsavoury memories, tragic missteps. I want to make this one right and learn from the past.

If only I could claw my way out of this miserable block.

That's part of the challenge. That's part of the change. With ten quid somewhere hiding within one of these pockets, I need to buy myself a miracle. A new mindset, and a fresh optimism to go along with it.

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