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Literature Text
I don't like to talk.
I feel that words cannot truly express what I feel.
When I am filled with emotion, I can find no word that can express what I feel to the fullest.
There is no word beautiful enough to describe this joy, no word horrible enough to describe this hate, no word ugly enough to describe this miserable existence.
I feel that words cannot truly express what I feel.
When I am filled with emotion, I can find no word that can express what I feel to the fullest.
There is no word beautiful enough to describe this joy, no word horrible enough to describe this hate, no word ugly enough to describe this miserable existence.
Literature
And That's Wrong.
You're fat.
Or maybe you're
Anorexic...
I don't know.
But you're not perfect.
And that's wrong.
You're ugly.
Or maybe you're
Fake...
But you're not perfect.
And that's wrong.
You're quiet.
Or maybe you're
Obnoxious...
But you're not perfect.
And that's wrong.
You're you.
Or maybe you're
like everybody else?
Well.
You're not perfect.
And that's wrong.
Literature
I am not a stereotype
Slide the blade across your wrist.
Again.
Again.
Again.
Stop.
"Doesn't it hurt?"
I can't feel anything.
"A little."
Punch your own stomach.
Harder.
Harder.
Does it hurt yet?
Yes.
Keep going.
"Why do you do that?"
The pain makes me feel alive.
"I don't know."
Stare.
Cry.
Scream.
Stop.
Keep staring.
"What's wrong with you?"
I'm dead inside.
"Nothing."
"Emotional freak."
I'm just depressed.
"Sorry."
Stare at your arms.
Your stomach.
Your waist.
Your thighs.
"What are you doing?"
I'm ugly.
"Never mind."
"Attention seeker."
I just have low self esteem.
"I'm sorry."
Cuts.
Scars.
Tears.
Emotions.
"Emo."
"Scene girl."
"Psycho."
I'm just human
Literature
Wonder.
Do you fear your own death?
Is it hard to conceive?
Draw in your last breath, then-
Your last breath will leave.
Isn't it strange to think,
That there's a timer above your head?
A countdown you can't see,
That finishes when you're dead.
Don't you ever wonder,
What it'll be like when you're gone?
I bet the world will keep on spinning.
There will be another dawn.
But the harsh reality behind it-
We're all going to die.
There's no reason to try to fight it
Not even to question why.
It makes me wish that I could have a little more to give,
Because I'm not afraid of how I'll die...
I'm afraid of how I'll
Live...
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Comments1
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Oh, how I do understand this.