I had been a girl who believed in stories. Who followed a boy through a window because he made the dark seem like an adventure.
And now I understood, too late, too clearly, that I had never been a companion to him. Never a friend. Never even a person. I was a thing he had collected. A voice to tell him stories. A heart to feed his hunger for adoration.
— Jun 27, 2026 09:18AM
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