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look at your sig |
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my dad says i can't draw on my hand anymore. a shame. i really think it was helping me stop. i made myself bleed with the rubber band today. it was in french class. the insides of my wrists are dotted with little hole from when i scratch all the skin off in the night. i don't think I'm okay. i also don't think i can tell anyone. |
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look. i don't know you that well but i have always looked up to you because you are a fantastic writer and a fantastic human being and you have gotten through shit. you have gotten through shit and i believe that you can get through this. meera i'm sorry that these people suck but there are other people who do not hate you. everyone who has responded to you, tried to help you try to tell you that we care does not hate you. we care about you, ok? if you take anything from this, just know that we care about you and i know that it seems like the entire world hates you but it doesn't. we don't. this is some horrible shit but i believe that you can get through this. |
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i say things i don't mean. im sure you do too. but I know. I'm not just guessing or reassuring you, but I KNOW there is someone in your life that loves you and you don't even know it. Even if you are a hundred percent sure otherwise, even if you respond to this with a rebuttal saying that NO ONE loves you, there is SOMEONE. I'm sure you love people. Most of those people love you too. And if they say otherwise, they're lying, because you're awesome. |
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i'm also never going to write another story/poem/whatever the fuck again |
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