And perhaps all those traits of myself that I always thought were ugly were really just the physical manifestations of my pain.
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The
Self harm scars rob you of the luxury of being dishonest to yourself.
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I had such a loving vision of you in my mind. Why did you have to go and ruin that? You. You with your childlike cruelty.
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I feel no connection to that of my generation.
And I take no joy in being an outsider...
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I can't do this alone
And I don't want to be alive.
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L
Whatever curiosity I had for the world has been replaced by either total detachment or quiet despair.
Nor have my best efforts helped,
Perhaps I never wanted them to.