Eleven

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Elle,

I don't even remember when I started writing these. I think it was in October. I think it was raining, it's always raining now. Has it always rained so much? Maybe it's a metaphor for my life, or maybe it's just me being a whiney, over dramatic teenager.

Anyways, I was talking about the letters. I don't even remember why I started writing them, I don't even think I knew. I was just so lonely. I still am. Lonely. God, how pathetic am I? Look I know that I have it good, I get it, it's not like my parents are abusive and I'm a starving or something. I'm okay, physically. But Elle, inside...inside I'm all messed up. Really messed up. I don't think I've smiled-a real smile-in ages. I think I forgot how it feels to be happy. God, I'm so depressing. How do you deal with me? Oh right, you're dead.

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