Anxiety
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WpMetadataNoticeLast published Wed, Nov 7, 2018
Im just sad, sitting silently cradling coffee in my hands; too cold, to clasp at something only the most refined of sociopaths would call elegant. My own life displayed numerically on a screen, the merits I have and the values they hold being projected for everyone to see. Im not worth anything, I'll probably never be anything, but anything could happen to me.
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#260
surrealism
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The average human being spends every second of his day fighting against the force of nature to see another day. But I'm different. I'm not afraid of outside forces to take my life away - only myself. Approximately 10 years ago, something happened to me. Something really bad. But I'm not allowed to talk about it. As a way to release my frustration, I give hell to my body and everyone I come in contact with - especially my parents. No one knows about what happened except the ones who did it...and Him. But he didn't stay. Now, he's back and he's not talking either. I want to stop hurting, I need to stop. Make me stop.

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