Dear Diary
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WpMetadataNoticeLast published Mon, Sep 18, 2017
[trigger warning] June 3rd, 3:43 Am, 2009 Dear Diary, I don't know why I'm returning here, relying on thin pages to solve my problem; but here I am anyways. It won't fix my issues by writing them and crying but at least it eases my raging thoughts, making them rush to a halt. This small worn out diary is a reminder, life has no happy endings like they do in books or movies: the world is harsh and cold. The world waits for no one, the world is a rush of lights, people and of course pain. I am glass, broken glass with rigged edges and sharp corners. My skin is torn like a teddy bear ripped at the seams from the hands of abuse: but in this story, I am my own abuser. My body is a gallery of scars and thick red lines, each with meaning and a background story. when will my pain end? [Dan Howell]
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I'm falling... Falling, helplessly and inevitably; completely at the mercy of the forces dragging me down. Having to trust in an entity's blind intentions and praying to God that they won't let me hit the ground. It's an incredible and horrifying feeling. A feeling that I live for. And I have realized that having something to live for makes you all the more scared of dying. (Constant uploads, and even more editing to older uploads)

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