while i sit in my room listening to my chemical romance i realize, im not ok. my life is a waste of eternal existence and i wish to the joke some people refer to as god to end it. i look at the box of razors that i just bought from home depot and wonder how many of them will i use before the cut goes deep enough to end my suffering. there is a
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"and she doubt my torchered soul."...:-/
I don't know if this is your little game anymore. I don't care, David. You're scaring me. I'm scared, David. This isn't fair.
But, I'm down the street if you need anything. Anything at all.
Deal?
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