Letter Forty Nine

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Dear Journal,
They took you away from me.
They said I cut myself on your pages too much.
Ever since they put me in the jacket and in that white plushy room...
I don't know pain.
I'm going insane.
I don't know if I'm alive anymore.
That's what those pages did for me.
They let me know I was alive.
I'm dead now.
At least, on the inside...
Sincerely,
Will

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