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I am here again. But, I've never been here before. I am afire, I am burning. I can outshine stars right now. I couldn't sleep again last night, but it wasn't because I was anxious, because my mind was orbiting my mistakes, categorizing my regrets, showing my the moments I'd love, so much, to forget. It wasn't sobriety's finger swirling my brain, it wasn't an itch or a need that couldn't be met, save chemically. It wasn't his snoring, either. It was happiness. It was a twitchy kind of peace, the only kind I know. It was the feeling that someone might be able to see into me, into my soul, and not flee. Not be disgusted, or repulsed. Someone who might see the little bit of beauty rattling around in there. It was treasuring the bruises I could feel forming inside of me, loving the soreness that was burning low in my belly. Loving the smells we make together. Loving the things you said before, during, and after, things I can't even commit to this black box, for fear that they will disappear, will have never happened. I don't need to tear you down to enjoy you. I don't need to lie, because you don't seem to judge, you you seem to understand, as much as you are able. Do you fucking hear me, universe? I'm tired. I'm worn out. I've done this a dozen times. I don't want to do it a dozen more. Let this be what it seems. Let me enjoy something for a while.