Help Help me. I feel as tho I'm dying. I have these days where it seems as tho I can't even breathe. And right now I'm crying. I have no #life. I just sit around all day with nothing. All my "friends" hurt me almost every day. An now I feel as tho I want to die. I know I don't. I'm just sitting here right now wiping off all the makeup covering my fears. People who have everything and don't know it think they've got it bad. And I know I've got it ok. But I dot even know why I was born. I have no purpose in this world. And I'm pretty sure if I just died off no one would notice. But I'll wait. I'll wait until people tell me they hate me. Then I'm gone.
Interesting Day Today... Today was pretty normal until 6th period. I'm in the schools drama club and we had a show in school today so I got to skip some of my classes. But this really annoying kid kept being... well annoying so I got do pissed off, I screamed and hit him with my cymbal. Then scene 13... the person who sang sounded horrible. Probably the worst scene of the day. Then when we had to change back into our clothes, I lost...my pants. So I ran out of the girls locker room screaming..."I LOST MY PANTS I LOST MY PANTS!!!!" So I had to wear my friends conveniently owned extra pair of pants. Which were about two sizes too big for me. I bolted out the door about two minutes after the bell rang holding my crotch because of my giant pants. On the ride home I told a few people that I lost my pants. They were confused. When I got home I told my dad... He was confused. I also changed. That was my very odd day.
Dream I had a dream last night. You were there. We were together. Like we should be. It was only you and me. No one else in the world. We danced until dawn. And I fell into your arms. You loved me. And I loved you. I had a dream last night. But that dream did not last long. For the moment I woke up, I wept for I was not with you.
Living Hell It's dark. I'm alone. Alone with my paper and my pen. Paper wet with my tears and my blood. Now I cannot write. A knife in my hand. I ask for forgiveness. I know now I'm about to die. I hold the knife against my stomach. I try to scream. But my voice won't reach the top. I can't. I feel blood drip down my face. Tears of blood on my cheek. It's over. I feel weak. Can I go on? No. I finally find my voice. I scream. But now I know it's too late I fall to the floor. No energy. I'm about to die. But I don't. I still have the scar on my stomach. To me, scars are just bad memories. Each scar ha a different story. And that scar has the worst of them all.
elise.
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Shannon
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elise.
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