Don't Apologize||Reader X Crankgameplays
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  • Parts 1
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  • Reads 3
  • Votes 2
  • Parts 1
  • Time <5 mins
Ongoing, First published Dec 31, 2018
Mature
⚠️TRIGGER WARNING: SELF HARM AND SUICIDAL THOUGHTS AND ACTIONS WILL BE IN THE STORY⚠️

How am I supposed to live like the way I do? People often refer to me as 'The Girl Of Death' because of something my father did. Everyone believes that the worse my life is, the more they benefit. Everyone that is, until I met a certain blue jelly bean.
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The Rich Emo: Ouran High School Host Club by graciegreat
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Loneliness. Depression. Broken. Scared. Devastated. Hopeless. Mournful. Disheartening. Bleak. Joyless. Somber. I have no one. Depression and Loneliness are the only things I feel. My family tries to make me happy, but I just put on a fake smile and cry about it in my room. They act like everything is alright, but everything is not. They KNOW I was devastated about Mom's murder. They KNOW I was heartbroken about Dad's sickness that eventually killed him. That's all I've thought about. Devastation and heartbroken. Just because of those two things. Never in my life I have been this devastating. Dayton, Hayden, Angel, or Monica know how to make me truly happy. Not even my own siblings know how to make me show a real smile. Suicide is all I can think about day to day and I've almost died because of that. DEPRESSION IS A REAL THING. NO ONE KNOWS HOW I FEEL EVERYDAY. NO ONE CAN JUDGE OTHERS ABOUT DEPRESSION OR EVEN MAKE JOKES ABOUT IT BECAUSE ITS A REAL THING. DEPRESSION HAS KILLED PEOPLE. EVERYONE IN MY LIFE JUDGES ME JUST BECAUSE I DON'T SMILE, LAUGH, HUG, OR DO ANYTHING NORMAL PEOPLE DO. I CUT MYSELF, I CRY, I YELL, I VENT, I PUSH PEOPLE OUT OF MY LIFE. Those are the things people are worried about me. "Go kill yourself and join your parents in hell." They say and I just shrug it off and find a private place to hide and cry it out. "I CAN'T DEAL WITH LIFE ANYMORE!!!!" I say and I use my sharp nails and cut myself then cry some more. A gun is buried within my arm for defense from my dad, but I use it in case I am tired of society. Then that's when I met the Host Club. They saw my sadness and made me a part of it to repay my debt for accidentally breaking a vase. I am now a Host for men to flatter them, but how can normal guys want me to be a Host when I wear lip earrings, eyeliner, chains, and have a gun in my arm? I'm the definition of Hell. Then he made me smile again, something that I thought I would never get back. Happiness.
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Isabelle's Poetry Journal (a continuation of Homesick Angel)

228 parts Complete Mature

My name is Isabelle I am 15 years old (not my real age.) I am a "Homesick Angel" at least that's what I'm told I am called the people like me are called the people who are depressed suicidal empty numb those people they're just trying to go home This is my poetry journal These are my real,TRUE thoughts everything in here was written by me To all the other Homesick Angels out there Please stay safe my loves. I'm here if you need me.