This Confirms My Death






Last night was bad.
He tried to kiss me to make me feel better. I laughed, restraining him from it. I laughed so hard that I cried.

And then it turned to sad tears. 
I ran to the bathroom, grabbed the scissors and painted on my wrist. I cried harder because this time, the physical pain could not trump the emotional pain.

I was not deserving.
I was looking for someone else.



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