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WpMetadataReadДля взрослыхВ процессе19m
WpMetadataNoticeLast published суб, фев. 27, 2016
"Are you happy?" is such a difficult question. I always said yes, because I have friends. I laugh at jokes. I go out alot and have fun. my life isn't as bad as it could be, and I don't have terrible problems. It could be worse. But then, one night at 3 am when I'm alone but still awake, lying in bed, thinking about life, I find myself crying my heart out. Suddenly I convince myself that no one likes me, or that nobody ever will. I feel horrible and question everything I had. And I start to wonder if i was ever happy at all.
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People say it will get better. But to be fair, most of them never were in your place. They say you will get happy again, but how can they know? I've struggled with trauma, mental illnesses, and self harm for many years. These are (mostly) poems - about me and my journey of getting better. ! As this is about self harm and other previously mentioned topics, it might be triggering. I don't glorify it in any way, though. I'm also not a native English speaker. If you find any mistakes, please tell me so I can improve.

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