Am I your friend? Do you really care about me the way I care about you? We use the term best friends, but is that just me? But is that truly what I am to you? Do I think more of you than you think of me? When my usefulness is gone, will you also leave? Why do these questions haunt me so? I worry about the future, like an endless sea of doubt. Doubting myself and others, will I ever be happy.
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