I used to be like any other girl. Happy, stubborn, kind, selfish, etc. Now I'm nothing like that.
I laugh and smile around others, but beneath the mask I am crying. I hurt myself just to know that I can still feel something and maybe forget the pain I feel, if even for a short time. I have considered suicide ever since I was fourteen, maybe thirteen.
Everyone told me it would go away with time, but I knew it was a lie. Everyday I sit in my bed and stare at the ceiling, wondering why I'm even alive. What is the meaning of it all?
I'm seventeen years old now and a few people have told me that I've done a great job for holding for so long.
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