twisted [2]

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...
I don't know why I still write in this.
People keep asking me about how Mask's doing, but I can't answer.
Please, please come back.

I look back on the pages before these ones.
Aloud, I read a few sentences to myself through gasps of tears, tears that smear the ink on the pages as they land delicately on the thin paper.
"He'll never love me."
I swear these words weren't here before.
Is my mind twisting all he wrote?
"I wish to awaken from this sick dream."
"Regret... Regret..."
"Stop."
That one word felt too direct, I couldn't explain it.

I went to sleep for the first time in a while.

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