This is the Real Me

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What the Fuck.

What the actual fuck.

Why me?

Why do I have separation anxiety?

Why do I have depression?






What the fuck?


Why couldn't He spread mental illnesses evenly?

She's mentally stable and I'm a nervous wreck.

Everything happens for a reason right?

Then why do I fall in love so fucking easily, only to get broken?

Why is Kyndra the reason I'm alive if she's also the reason I want to die?

What the FUCK?!

Roses are red.

Flowers smell great.

If gay means happy,

I'm extremely FUCKING straight.

I say I got attacked by a cat, fell off the skateboard, got pushed at school.

In reality, I "shaved" my arm.

I "sharpened my pencil."

I got that knife out of the wood block on the counter and let the blood flow from my wrist, thigh, chest into the bathroom sink.

I say I'm cold, comfortable, shy.

In reality, I have cuts and bruises.

Marks and scars.

I have all the markings of a suicidal person.

I'd call the hotline, but all they do is arrest you and put you in some psych ward.

So if I lose my battle,

Just know my last words.


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