Freedom
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Freedom. That's a word you hear a lot. But what does it really mean to be free? Being able to do whatever you want? I ran away from my dad (finally) but does that really mean I'm free? No one can truly be free. The memories will always come back. So what does it mean to truly be free? -•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-
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kickthepj
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It was my first back to New York after six months. I was looking forward to this. To going back to camp. Seeing my friends, and having fun for another summer. And for those of you who haven't figured it out yet, I was abused a child. And this caused some pretty shitty depression at a young age. It didn't help that I didn't have any friends. But I came here, and friends happened and the depression went away. It might pop up, but that was more so grief. I haven't thought about suicide since I was 14. That's a really long time. Well, okay, I did once in Tartarus but that wasn't killing myself, that was just giving up. So it doesn't count, okay?

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