Painful Existence

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I read books about pain and anger and everything that is similar to them, and I didn't know why...I am drawn to them, addicted to them...because that is the strongest and simply put the only emotion I notice that I actually feel with my whole being. I care about the people I should love, but that's it...just care. I don't want people's help to get better because...I feel I am too broken to open up myself to love or anything like it. If I were to open up in the future or present...I would break to no return to any emotion other than insanity. The only reason I'm not suicidal now is just this reason, and the reason that I haven't killed myself yet. It's sad yes, but, yup it's just plain sad. I don't show it, none of it. My exterior is only that...and no one knows. I still have things to live for, I still have to give the world something...but it is a painful existence to continue.

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