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It's like having pain wrench at your gut. Or sometimes like all your organs have been rid of your body, and that hollow feeling, emptiness, will always stay with you because people are mindless, cruel monsters. And I know that change is possible, but someone can never take their actions away.

Harm is damage. It tears at your heart, taking away your hope that things will get better. That with perseverance, you can get through it. But how is that possible when others, peers who you used to color in crayon with, feed off of your suffering?

I cut. I cut a lot, actually. I like the feeling of that oh-so-familiar edge of my razor slicing across the already scarred and distorted skin of my forearm. When the blood drips onto the pine counter of my bathroom sink, I think of it as slowly losing life.

The more you let go, the closer you are to escaping...everything.


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