I told you.

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[I guess this is a vent?]


I can't do it.

I'm not good enough. I don't deserve anything I have.

If you care about me, you shouldn't. I only push people away, I deserve to be hurt.

And worst of all, I push away myself, and I hate them too. I hate myself.

And if you're not sure, I think the blood on my shoulder can tell you.

I can never do anything right.

And I'm so FUCKING STUPID that I think people might actually care about me. I'm such a fucking idiot for thinking I might be loved. By anyone.

And I can play it off saying I'm "good" and saying "fine" and being a "happy" person.

I'm just scared that one day I'll slip.

Maybe into telling someone.

Maybe into a suicidal plot.

Maybe taking out the scissors again.

I try to help.

But why the fuck is everything so hard?

And why can't I be happy?

I'm happy for a bit, maybe sometimes, but it leaves fast.

I'll just always be broken, I guess.

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