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прекратите вести себя так, словно каждая фотография в пинтересте принадлежит вам, каждая умная мысль приходит только в вашу голову. и поймите, что вы не единственный гений на этой планете. другие люди тоже могут додуматься до хороших идей и решений. не нужно вести себя так, будто ваше мнение — единственное верное, а ваши идеи никому не могут прийти в голову. мы все живём в одном мире и часто думаем об одном и том же.
с течением времени, когда буря чувств успокаивается и душевные раны затягиваются, приходит понимание: то, что казалось нестерпимой болью и смыслом всей жизни, превратилось в обычную страницу прошлого. мы отчаянно держимся за воспоминания, любимых людей и сказанные слова, но жизнь неумолимо движется вперёд. в итоге остаются лишь мудрые уроки пережитого и чёткое знание: ничто не вечно, всё меняется, и это единственный константный закон бытия.
он говорит «я люблю тебя», но ньют писал:
«dear thomas,
this the first letter that i can remember writing. obviously i don't if i wrote any before the maze. but, even it's not my first, it's likely to be my last. i want you to know that i'm not scared. well not of dying, anyway. it's more forgetting. it's losing myself to this virus. that's what scares me. so every night i've been saying their names out load. alby. winston. chuck. and i just repeat them over and over like a prayer, and...and it all comes flooding back. just the little things like where the sun used to hit the glade right before it slipped beneath the walls. and i remember the taste of frypan's stew – i have never thought i'd miss that stuff so much.
and i remember you. i remember the first time you came up in the box. just a scared little greenie who couldn't even remember his own name. from that moment you ran into the maze i knew i would follow you anywhere. and i have. we all have. if i could do it all over again, i would. and i wouldn't change a thing. and my hope for you is that when you're looking back years from now you'll be able to say the same. the future is in your hands now tommy. and i know you'll find a way to do what's right. you always have. take care of everyone for me. and take care of yourself. you deserve to be happy.
thank you for being my friend.
goodbye mate.
newt.»
«dear thomas,
this the first letter that i can remember writing. obviously i don't if i wrote any before the maze. but, even it's not my first, it's likely to be my last. i want you to know that i'm not scared. well not of dying, anyway. it's more forgetting. it's losing myself to this virus. that's what scares me. so every night i've been saying their names out load. alby. winston. chuck. and i just repeat them over and over like a prayer, and...and it all comes flooding back. just the little things like where the sun used to hit the glade right before it slipped beneath the walls. and i remember the taste of frypan's stew – i have never thought i'd miss that stuff so much.
and i remember you. i remember the first time you came up in the box. just a scared little greenie who couldn't even remember his own name. from that moment you ran into the maze i knew i would follow you anywhere. and i have. we all have. if i could do it all over again, i would. and i wouldn't change a thing. and my hope for you is that when you're looking back years from now you'll be able to say the same. the future is in your hands now tommy. and i know you'll find a way to do what's right. you always have. take care of everyone for me. and take care of yourself. you deserve to be happy.
thank you for being my friend.
goodbye mate.
newt.»
утреннее солнце пробивается сквозь шторы. медленный подъем с постели, первая мысль о чашке кофе. тёплые руки касаются подоконника, за окном тихонько шелестят деревья. взгляд падает на новый букет цветов. на кухне привычно щёлкнула кнопка чайника, по комнате разливается аромат свежемолотых зёрен. первые глотки обжигают губы, мысли медленно приходят в порядок.
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я, если у меня реально поедет крыша:
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