Sometimes I ask myself why am I here… sometimes I ask myself what is the point of living…. when you have no hopes or dreams , or future who do you turn to? a blade maybe? perhaps a razor? If you cry no one will have to know…if you cut yourself no one will have to see your scars…who am I? what made me the way I am now….why must life bully me? why can’t I be pretty? or rich? how can I tell someone what’s wrong with me…
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1 I only have 2 friends (well kinda 3 )
2 I have low self esteem (I’m worthless)
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