Twenty Three (tw)

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Dear Michael,

I can't take this anymore Michael. I can't do this. I can't.

These walls are caving in on me and I can't breathe anymore Michael. I can't continue going to school just to get shit from people, just to come home to an empty house as a reminder that I'm alone.

I can't think. I can barely write this god damned letter.

My hands are shaking and the teardrops staining this paper are just making me angrier and more upset at myself.

I'm so weak.

I can't believe that I'm so incredibly fed up with everything. I feel like an absolute piece of shit. I feel like everything is crashing down on top of me and I can't take anymore weight.

First I find out someone ratted my biggest secret out, that I self harm. Then people are telling me to just kill myself. My family leave me alone to watch the house and my friends haven't spoken a word to me, or texted me back, leaving me on read with no reply.

Now I can't belive I'm writing this damn letter with the intention of hurting myself right after I send it. It's psychopathic. It's crazy. It's absolutely mental.

But it's my way of coping and I'm sure you understand.

Lots of love,
Aleigha x

(P.S. these have been so triggering lately and I'm so sorry. I need to get this off of my chest and no one else cares, not that I think you do anyways.)

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