A Basket Made of Paper

A Basket Made of Paper

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WpMetadataReadOngoing<5 mins
WpMetadataNoticeLast published Fri, Mar 1, 2024
To: Hey. How's your day? Did you have fun? Did you have fun hanging out with your friends? Or are you busy doing homeworks? Or perhaps work or house chores? And I'll guess that some of you are just bored that you ended up reading this thing. You know, I didnt have a good day like you. No. Scratch that. I never had a good life like yours. I resented my whole life. It is messed up. Chaotic. Endless war. Everything is screaming for help. Yet I kept my mouth shut like a locked box with no key. As days passed, it is getting worse. Its getting louder, their screams. All I see is a grayscale picture. And a blue sky above. If breathing means experiencing more sufferings, Then I'll suicide. And If dying is to achieve freedom, I'll gladly take my own life. The date is marked. I will give back what I've borrowed from Him the same day He let me borrows it. Sincerly yours, Unknown • • • • • • • • • ©All Rights Reserve
All Rights Reserved
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My life has always been terrible. I was always bullied at school. I don't know why, it just seemed that people didn't like my presence. The guys would beat me up and I'd get in trouble when I defended myself, for the teachers never saw what they did. The girls would trick me, making me think they liked me and laughing at me because of it. I was always in the principle's office for one reason or another, but I wasn't a bad student. I actually got really good grades. To make matters worse, my mother wanted nothing to do with me. She'd lock me in the basement, sometimes for days, with no food or warmth. My father would then sneak down and beat me before raping me. So, naturally, I wanted to die. But, for some reason, I can't die. No matter what I do, I can't stay dead. The thing I want more than anything is far out of my reach. Why can't I just die? Warning: mention of rape, suicide, and abuse. Also, this is a boy's love story.

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