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Graphic / Triggering - Stop. Stop! STOP.
I'm sitting here, thinking, pretending to feel and all of a sudden an image of you crashes into my mind.
Your lifeless body, hanging in your room.
His naked body, looming over me, touching me.
It sickens me.
I don't want to relive this every night but it happens anyway.
I want to smash my head in to see if that will make it stop, because nothing else seems to work.
So I just sit in my room, alone, with all these memories flashing through my mind and I cry.
I cry and bleed and there's no one to stop me.
Because no one knows. No one knows what he did to me. No one but you.
You promised you'd never leave me. You lied, like the rest of them.
Now I'm wondering how many times a heart can be broken.
Why do they make us keep on feeling with their pills and psychoptherapy when all it does it hurt?
Why must they insist on hurting us, claiming they only want to make it better?
Make you better. You have an illness, a disease. And to be honest, it will kill you in the end.
Like cancer but worse. Because it hurts everywhere, in every way. This depression shit sucks really.
Sometimes I want to go out their and kill everyone. All the people that judged me, doubted me, stared at my scars or looked at me in a disgusted manner.
There's two sides of me you see.
And at the moment, I'm illogical and irrational and I'm surprised I can even be bothered to move my fingers to write this.
The funny, happy me will be back in the morning. The fake one who can't stay still for longer than 5 seconds.
But for now, I have to deal with not having you.
Just this image of blood flowing from you, from me, from everyone.
And I'll smirk.
Then it'll hit me and I'll cry.
Maybe one day soon I'll die.
I think I've said everything I had to say.
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