This is the Real Me

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A Diary Entry

January 24, 2021

I tried to strangle myself last Thursday. I threw away my razor, but I wish I hadn't. I want– I need– to feel that pain again. It felt so good. I'm already thinking about getting another one. I just... UGH. I don't know anymore. Do you ever want to just... LIVEN'T? Like, not live? You don't want to die, because that'd be death. That's like, six-feet-under dead. Like, funeral dead. You just want to not live, but not DIE either. Then our parents are always like "You have no reason to have anxiety." Wanna bet? You left us in a polluted world. A world where we have to cover up so we don't get raped, but we have to show some skin because if we don't, we're boring. A world where school teaches us things we'll never use, but they teach us that guys are pervs and feelings don't matter as long as we know how to find the square route of x. A world where if we have one flaw, you know it's all people can see. A world where we have to drink to be fun, but if we drink, we're seen as an old depressed person. And we have no reason to be stressed. Right? How much did we bet?

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