oily marks appear on walls, where pleasure moments hung before the takeover

it's strange to realize that after so much time i still don't trust myself. other peoples' voices resonate more loudly in me than my own.

i saw every action through your lens, and that isn't fair to me or to him. what confuses and hurts me more than what happened is that i believed your somehow expert opinion over what i knew in my heart. i feel awful for what i let myself think about him and for the trust i had in you.

you call me naive, but i would rather be that than callous.