day two hundred and twenty two

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this new medication tastes weird. it's not like strawberries or cherries. it tasted like a mix of liqourice and sherbert. i didn't like it, but it was better than the bitter taste of paracetamol. i'm surprised that kacchan hasn't found this diary or my medication yet, considering he's been in and out of my dorm over a hundred times. i still have that feeling in my chest, that nagging feeling telling me that he's just playing with me, and he's only doing things with me out of sympathy. he knows about the first diary, i know it. he saw my little notes and he saw those blood soaked pages. he read all about how i suffered, and how i am still suffering. he knows nearly everything about me, but he doesn't know me entirely. but he doesn't know about this one, and i'll be more careful this time. he can't know about this diary. he just can't. this diary contains everything. i can't lose it. i won't lose it.

it's the only thing i have left.

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