When did you become like a Monday to me? You were always the reason for my euphoria—short, sweet, that quick, spine-thrilling adrenaline rush; in other words, like a Sunday to me. But now, I find myself unprepared to encounter you, unsure of what you’ll bring, uncertain of what to expect.
You’ve become a puzzle I no longer know how to solve, a storm I can’t predict. And yet, maybe within this unpredictability lies the answer—a chance to rediscover what we once were, or perhaps to accept what we’ve become.
^¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡^
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