Ch. 6

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Date: January 13th
[Izuku's POV]- Time: 4:09
I sat calmly in my bathroom, staring at my arms.
Scars. And yet, the satisfaction of cutting through them over and over.
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[Izuku's 12th page—diary]
January 8th: Cut, 5 marks-✔️

January 13th: Cut, 6 marks-✔️

January 18th: Cut, 7 marks-

January 23rd: Cut, 8 marks-

January 28th: Cut, 9 marks-

February 2nd: Cut, 10 marks-

February 7th: Cut, 11 marks-

February 12th: Cut, 13 marks-

February 17th: Cut, 14 marks-
Finish date: |Not done yet|

March 5th: Death date
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Contrary to belief, cutting helps absolutely nothing. There is no reason to be doing it, but it's the only thing that can remotely bring pleasure or happiness at all in life. I know that I did this to myself and that I shouldn't blame it on anyone except for me.

Just imagine that a regular person is able to walk freely.

A popular person can run without getting tired.

But me, I'm the failure. Moving forward for me is like dragging along a metal ball attached to your feet, but there might be a way to get the key. To release the ball and chain from your foot, in two ways.

Ending it, or not.

But that's the problem. I'm scared. Scared of death. I can't help but think that there might be some other way to end the pain, the suffering, the stress. I know if I die I won't be able to turn back.

But it depends if I should take that risk or not.
[257 words]

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