I know, I shouldn't. But I can't help it. It's late, again, and I miss you. You're not home, because you're studying the night away, trying to deserve each penny that you earn, because of your commitment and responsibility to me. I wish I could do something to change it. I should get back to my own things, but, instead at night, I miserably look at the clock and wish you were home.
I need to put an order into things.
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