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 “You’re just like your mother.”

I whisper to myself as I stare at my lifeless reflection in the mirror

"Ugly and useless.”

I crawl onto the twin sized bed and curl up into the stained sheets. I lay on my back and let my mind run free. I’m still having a hard time processing that I am actual here. I’m in a mental hospital. This is where freaks go. Am I a freak too? How could my mother just bring me here and leave, how could my brother let her? I know I haven’t been there for them lately, but I’m getting through my own problems and they haven’t exactly been so nice.

 So what? They think they can just ship me off to some crazy house and I’ll be better. That I’ll stop cutting, start eating, and want to live again?

Well its like I’m already dead, because this place is hell. 

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