This is not a suicide note. I am not allowed to do that. That would make me the bad guy. If things were a bit different though I would deffo be eating toast in the bath. I hope I get ill again. That would be perfect. The only problem with getting ill last time was that I got better. I was ready. I was ‘at peace’. Then, as now, I have had enough. I am always tired, I always hurt. I am never shown any love and I don’t really do anything I enjoy. All the things I am supposed to enjoy either I don’t or I get stopped from doing by other people who are supposed to care about me. I am now old enough to know I will never get what I want in my life. This is it, my best days are behind me and I wasted them on making do. The sun comes out and I get sunburn in the hope that it will fix my skin. In the hope it will make me better. It just makes my skin fall off in different ways and hurt from a new angle. I look for stuff to fill the box I live in. The space is getting smaller and ...
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