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Here I am once again. Left to fight a war, a war from within down deep beneath the skin. This war is unlike no other, I am at war with a horrible monster. Who is this horrible monster you may ask. Well it's not that simple you see, the horrible monster is me...
I have tried for so long, to be a little strong. Oh yes a little bit stronger. I feel as if I just simply do not belong, and when I am alone at home I listen to a song. It all gets better, but soon after I get silent my mind gets violent. That's when I realize that I cannot fear death any longer... Because the fear of living is far more worse. I fear living cause I'm living in pain and Suicide seems like the only option, well at least the best decision that I could ever make, but that is the path I'm trying not to take....
My mind is full of thoughts, oh so many thoughts, some of which I want to forget and others I just don't want to believe are true. My mind is like a never ending ocean, and I am lost out at sea. Hope, oh yes I hope that one day someone will save me. Save me from what you might ask. Well it isn't so simple. However, it is painfully obvious and nobody ever notices that I am at war with my demons, well to be more precise I am at a constant war with myself. I feel as if I have stones tied around my ankles, pulling at me from just under the surface. It's like quicksand the more you struggle the quicker you will sink, and there is nothing you can do to prevent this from happening. I have tried over and over again to reach out for someone like me. For some reason I can never really get a good grasp on reality, and as this continues I gasp for air as I struggle to maintain what little remaining shards and fragments of my sanity I have left. Finally I realized, what is the point in living if all I ever do is suffer in silent pain? I can't keep on like this, my limbs ache, my heart is shattered and scattered across the ground, I can barely make a sound, lying here waiting to be found, I am soul bound and my lungs burn. But I must not wait for you to turn your ways while I count my final days. So when I am dying I better not catch you crying because no one cared when I was actually trying, you know when I was smiling and lying. Was the truth really that blinding to you, or was I  just so unimportant that you couldn't even be bothered with me?

— The End —