im falling apart in the most poetic fashion: every part of me is aching. mentally, physically. something has happened to me. ive tracked it, somewhat. and im scared. scared in at least three ways. am i creating the fear? is the fear real? or if i stop creating it, will i miss the real fear? i cry at least three times a week. not in the
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the very second you experience even the tiniest amount of joy, someone will make it their purpose in life to take it away in the most horrible fashion imaginable. not only will they take it (it, the only happen emotion you have felt in some time), they will bring it to their slaughterhouse of choice and force you to watch its bloody demise. and
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im 45 at 19. im so very tired of being sad. and drained. and scared. and locked up. its the worst its ever been. and probably getting worse by the moment. and i miss my friends. but giving them this excuse seems so tired
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i woke up sad this morning. it was the strangest feeling i have ever experienced. waking up with that horrible lump in your throat and uncomfortable knot in your stomach is, well, scary. it disturbed me. i felt sad. my first thought of the day was one of sadness. it was all i could do to not break down in the shower. i never want to feel
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