I lie in bed. Staring up at the ceiling. Unable to get up. I know I should and get ready for school. But I can't. The crushing weight of the hell we call reality is pressing down on me. Immobilizing me. As I cry. Thoughts swarming in my head. Like my nonexistent future. Or how I can't to stop cutting. And how no one would miss me if I committed suicide. The expectations and responsibilities placed upon me from birth. The stressful exams and tests. And saving up for some college. All so you can get some nice job that pays well? So you can survive? But if we all die in the end.
Then what's the point?
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I Am Not As Fine As I Seem
Short StoryJust some depressing stuff about how I'm feeling