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... swer to my question would lead to my downfall. I would kill myself out of love for her, or kill myself from the abhorrent self-loathing that would overcome me if I realized that after all this time, I loved myself above everything.


And as I would pull the trigger, I would hear her laugh.


I would remember that I had no one to slide me a new gun when my bullets ran out.


Standing on the blood-soaked street, between corpses I had shot, I would run to her and embrace her ...

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