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The following day, I found myself walking through the park, trying to make sense of it all. The leaves rustled in the gentle breeze, a soft reminder of the world continuing on, indifferent to my turmoil.
I sat on a bench, watching the world move around me, people lost in their own lives, unaware of the storm inside me.
“I don’t know how to fix this,” I muttered under my breath.
A passerby gave me a curious glance but kept walking.
Her words echoed in my mind, a constant reminder of the uncertainty that now loomed over everything.
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“I can’t go on pretending,” she had said.
Those words, the finality in them, felt like a door closing on a chapter of my life.
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