I like to draw. My pictures start out crimson but fade over time. So I renew them when they get older. The pain they cause is what tells me I'm actually alive and not as dead as I am on the inside. Although I'm not proud of my drawings. I haven't shown anyone. If I did they would call me crazy and send me away, because I painted them with a razor, and my canvas was my skin. They where just a cure for the pain.
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sad short stories
RandomTRIGGER ALERT. REFERENCE TO SELF HARM SUICIDE ECT. each update will be one story.
