desired or dreaded

 The second you see me you beg to leave is the sight of me too much to bear. The thought of me a weight on your mind enough to squash your brain. Devoid it of all forms of being polite. No relent for your need to leave and forget it all. Yet you cant escape the ties are too tight every year we will meet whether its desired or dreaded. You get sick at the sight of me and I get blank at your image. Will it ever be the same or are the things we shared only due to forced friendliness and ease of access. 

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