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he had hurt himself before, hoping he could feel something if he managed to cut till the blade hit his bones, till his ribs turned prominent and skin turned pale. that was his old way of living.

lately, he had doused himself in sleeping medicines to escape every source of reality, drowsy as the cloyingly sweet sedative smell overtook his senses and he couldn't see.

but that didn't work anymore. he knew he couldn't keep on living like that. so there he was, sitting on the boundary of his school, harshly kicking his feet until he slipped and fell down.

𝗂. 𝗦𝗧𝗥𝗔𝗡𝗚𝗘𝗥 . 𝖻𝖾𝗈𝗆𝗀𝗒𝗎Where stories live. Discover now