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Ciera Jackson Feb 2015
Dear Cigarrette in My Hand,
    I love the way you make me feel. All the anxiety the world creates and you, my dear friend, are the only one that makes things better.  You are the one I crave, the one I love. My loved ones say you are no good for me, but I laugh them off. They could never understand how I feel when I inhale your sweet poison. The euphoric feeling makes me feel almost sane. Slowly, I know you are killing me, but how can I face the world each day without your kiss? How can I calm myself and clear my head without your great influence? Tell me, my love, why must you **** me when I have shown you nothing but love?
To be honest, the answers to these questions mean nothing to me. There is no way that I could give you up. There is no way I could live without you. I would rather die by your loving embrace than the cold pressure of the world beyond us. I love you, my sweet cigarrette. I love you!
From the One Who Truly Loves You,
I don't smoke. I wrote this for my friend who does.
Ciera Jackson Apr 2015
I can’t believe I have decided to do this…
                  I can’t believe that this is happening..
       This is my note.
   This is my goodbye.
        I’m sick of this.
     Sick of this feeling.
       The depression.
   The hatred of myself.
                                Wanting to cut every inch of my arms and legs.
                  I’m done disappointing everyone:
         Teachers
         My parents
         My friends
         Everyone.
  
                                                ­  I’m sick..
                                                And my only cure is death.

— The End —