seven

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we talked for a few minutes that day.

and then you had to leave.

you never brought up my wrists.

and then

i didnt see you

for a month.

i knew you were so disgusted with me,

that you couldnt even come back.

i was sad.

more sad.

i hurt more.

i hurt myself more.

i finally thought i had someone i could possibly call a friend.

apparently not.

fuck you, depression.

you ruin everything.

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