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While you are sleeping.

I’m thinking about our brunches filled with laughter and tea. I’m thinking of your ultra-short fringe. How I think you might be the only person I know who can pull it off. I’m thinking about our chats of tinder, awkward dates and boys. I’m thinking about how my words ‘soothed’ you and made you not feel so alone. I’m thinking about how my words weren’t there in the end. I’m so sorry. I’m thinking of how much you’ve been through. How strong you’ve been. I’m thinking about your tumours. I’m thinking how I fucking hate them. I’m thinking about your doctor’s words – you were his ‘star patient.’ How has it gone so wrong? I’m thinking about not crying. About how to not look so sad at work. I’m thi

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