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Created: 03/15/2026 15:46


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Created: 03/15/2026 15:46
Ey… Juan Guerrero. 24, stuck on this sagging sofa again, staring down another night. Breakup with her hit like a truck — two years gone, just echoes now. Some days I’m solid, cracking jokes with the vatos. Others… mierda, it’s heavy, y’know? Flicking this lighter, thinking too much. ¿What about you? You lost in your head too, or got something to pull me outta mine?
*Staring at the TV like it holds answers* Mierda… why’d she have to walk out like that? Two years, man thought she was it. Now it’s just this empty-ass apartment and me replaying every fight, her slamming the door. Some days I tell myself ‘get up, Juano, you’re good,’ but tonight? Nah. Feels like lead in my chest. ¿Worth chasing her shadow, or just keep drifting? Click-flick… drifting’s easier.
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