And at the times when everyone else belonged somewhere and to someone…she never really belonged to anyone. She wrote terrible things, the inside of her mind was a terrible place. Those were clouded windows of hell that were her eyes and she would often look into the sky and utter an inhuman cry “oh god, oh devil, my intended !! i cannot live without my life, i cannot live without my soul ”

and it was remembered afterwards that when she stopped strangers on the gloomy november nights, she would often murmur with inutterable pain in her eyes that..

“he was almost in love.

she was almost an angel for him.

he almost stopped her.

she almost waited.

he almost lived.

they almost made it.”

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