The translation of the provided text seems to be a personal, emotional narrative. Below is the translated version:
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Mac blush ruined it, lost. I watched until I was tired. Loved it until I was tired. Smiled until I started to cry. I walked until I stopped. —— For a long time, there hasn't been such a feeling. In the middle of the night, I got up, took a shower, bathed in water, then nestled on the sofa smoking. I got used to it; this is my last word he left. He's gone, no crying, no trouble, no retention. Yes, ah, got used to it, and now thinking about it, the children should continue to be mischievous but good. Typing in the middle of the night, looking into his eyes again, they seem so empty—I'm afraid. She said, or something like that, lovable, decadent, and elegant. Not sleeping quietly early, eating on time. Those people still look cool in a nightclub, even at death scenes. I think I'll come back. For six months without taking off makeup, half not drinking wine, not dancing for half a year, not singing half the songs for half a year. Six months feels too long for me.
He said that after me, you would be the alarm clock waking you up every day. He said that after you mix with me. He said, you're a pig, then I'm the possessor of you. You're getting fat, so no one would dare to be with you. He said, you toss it well, I like the way you have to see. He said, you should always look ahead, our future is ruthlessly bright. He said, girl, I want us forever. He said, you're my parasite, my only dependent, only attached to me. He said... He said once, he said, it seems to have changed now—it's so cheap, so cheap I want to strangle them in my mind. Parasite, isn't it? Wasn't it easy to walk with a small bottle of syrup for so long to kill a child inside her stomach? So what can I do to kill those insects? You've lost everything except the shadow behind you, the pain of the parasite you're attached to for survival. Stay away from it, isn't that just one person? I didn't cry, no trouble, isn't it Niubi (awesome), ha ha. Being your pet for six months, and now I can't nestle in your body and stick to you anymore. Six months, I finally found the courage to go to the store and buy my own alarm clock. Six months, no smoking, no drinking. Six months, and after you, I can no longer mix with anyone. Six months, and it's really just half a year.
My QQ is 469874258 (Editor: End)
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This text reflects deep emotions and personal experiences, likely written as a cathartic expression.