The Sandman

The Sandman

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WpMetadataReadComplete Wed, Aug 5, 201523m
The Sandman. Never. Stops. He won't ever stop. Haunting my dreams, my reality, and most importantly, me. He turns into what was once peaceful and welcoming slumber into my own personal Hell, making me unsafe and vulnerable and sickeningly weak in my own mind. I've been called crazy. I've been called a freak. Death is ruining my life. The anger, the fury that pulls at my skin and runs coldly through my blood will propel me to kill what cannot be killed. Even if it costs me my sanity. Happiness doesn't last.
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#365
innocence
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December twentieth is the day I remember being brought into the asylum for the first time. Like any typical psychopath, I screamed. I cried. I remember snatching the nurse's hair until she screamed and I was slapped into unconsciousness and thrown into the room. The only difference? I wasn't a psychopath. For the first few days, I would cry maniacally upon hearing any nurse go by, to catch one's attention and tell her that I wasn't insane. "That's exactly what an insane person would say" They said, unbothered and it was as if my fate rested in the mouldy walls of the Asylum. And I soon realized that there was no use fighting for my life now .Which brings me to the present day, another one that I'll mark in history with red. The day I met him.

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