Recalling written letters was remembering what was and what is now my blog.
What is it, but a repository of hundreds of notes that hung by a mere ego.
What is it, but a way to express what I felt, and no longer I will.
What is it, but the constant struggle to deal with a girl who will never know.
What is it, but the eternal wait to meet Bella.
What is it, but something to be reborn.
But still do not know what is not.
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Xtopher