I scratch my skin with my own nails because I have gone crazy at night. My words are kept locked away because I am not allowed to tell my feelings. My own thoughts do not matter anymore and if they don't matter why would you care if I was gone . My presence would be right next to you quietly whispering in your ear "do you miss me ?" Would you hate me if I was gone ? Remember that I am no longer called" happy", I am now called "sad."
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United States • 25 years old