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Hey dummy.
I don't know what I'm hoping to achieve here, but 11:11 struck and I thought of you. I wish things could have been different, but I hope this was for the better.
I stopped visiting the future. I no longer wish you were with me when I go somewhere. But I still think of you often.
I hope you land your TV role this year, and I hope you don't have to drink too many oat milk FV lattes with extra shots in order to get there.
Find your rest, and the rest with fall in line.
I still love you. My eyes still tear up at moments like this. Although remembering how miserable each other were helps ease the what-ifs, I still miss you.
Hope you're well. If by chance you read this and decide to reach out, I'll deny everything so don't bother.
Love,
Bugaboo.
Edit: to the lady who wrote me 3 novels: yo, I'll keep what you said between us, but you for real need some heavy therapy.
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