I fake it all so well. Everyone thinks I’m this happy little girl with no worries and in reality it’s a mask. A mask to the pain and horror I go through. They don’t see that little girl they think is happy cry herself to sleep every night. They think nothing’s wrong with me. Little do they know I fake everything just so they don’t know I cut and cry and want to die every night.
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What if one day the mask slipped to show the real you to those around you, how would they react, support or disbelief, if only people knew the truth, if only you didn’t have to hide. Why do you want to harm yourself, I know it can bring relief, but why and to want to die and I bet your young as well.