[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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