I didn't cut again for two weeks.
This time when I did I cut a little deeper.
I did it on my wrist this time.
I liked the burn
I realize how much I liked it.
They were right.
That was the day I realized I was depressed, and the voices weren't just in head.
They were real
And they control me.
YOU ARE READING
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PoetryI'm sorry to tell you that this story does not have a happy ending. Because the reality of life is happy ending only happen in movies. *a short story about love and sucide*
