Long Days
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Hi, my name is Marley Anderson. I'm 19. I moved out of my house a few months ago. Still mentally scared. I was brought up in a messed up household. Mother never around step-father loved his step-daughter more then his wife. Father dead. No friends, oh and my church hates me. Plus I'm bisexual and nobody is okay with it. No biggie. Most people have no hope by this point, but I have a small sliver. A small sliver of happiness, when I worship my god. Or if someone even glances at me, without a look masked with disgust. Hi, my name is Presley Love. My parents are filthy rich. Don't give much of a damn about me, they only care if it influences their work. 'Oh yes, we love our little Presley. Every night we play board games, and then go an tuck her in' a lie that rolled if he tongue of my mother. My father, he is having an affair, but sometimes I can see his love for me. When he buys me a new book, or actually flashes me a genuine smile (not often) plus, I'm sick. Really sick. I don't want to talk about it anymore. I kinda like girls, but I kinda like guys. I don't really give a crap, I just want to die already.
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#55
hardknocklife
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Dear Nobody, My name is Luna Rose Wesley and I'm just like any other girl my age. I have some secrets, I'm afraid of the future, I have some complicated relationships and some amazing friends, and I'm just trying to do anything that I can to survive. But as the days pass, it seems like surviving in my world is becoming more difficult with every minute. You see, without any money, my family is forced to live in in an apartment building that's smack dab in the center of our rundown part of the city. And my mother is just a work of art. She is now addicted to drugs, and she isn't trying very hard at all to try to get us out of our inner-city situation. Living in constant fear, not only of what's outside my window at night, but also of my violent dealing brother living in the room across the hall, I have to find a way to cope without putting a bullet in my skull like so many of my fallen brethren. And my coping mechanism is to write letters to nobody- to you- and sending it to an address that doesn't exist. I need somebody to talk to without that somebody thinking that I'm looking for pity, so I've found you. Nobody. Thanks for listening. Sincerely, Luna Rose (Rated Mature for the mentioning of sex, drug use, violence, and profane language. Does not contain actual sex scenes.)

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