It starts with wisdom about relationships and ends in bittersweetness, as most things do.
My friend Yan's at it again, writing a heartfelt open letter to the void that is human existence. You can't ever go back, get back what you had, because the only constant is change, and you can't unsee what you've seen, unhear what you've heard, unsay what was said, unscrew who was fucked.
There is only, always, moving on. From things, but also from nothings.
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