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**READ THIS**
I am going to tell you now, instead of later, that is book is VERY TRIGGERING. It gives detailed descriptions about self harm, suicidal ideation, and anxiety/depression. This book is also based on real life events and people, so please respect the characters. I suggest if you ever self-harmed, and you don't feel fully secure in that realm, that YOU DO NOT READ this book. I understand that it can cause anxiety, PTSD, and most importantly, relapses. I would feel really shitty as an author, let alone a human being, to inflict that hurt on someone else. So once again, if you ever self harmed, are struggling with suicidal thoughts or plans, or ARE NOT OF AGE please don't read this. Thank you.

Suicide hotline - 1-800-273-8255

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"It's as if I'm slowly fading out of existence."

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"Do you like, do you like where you've been and where you're going to? Say goodnight, say goodnight to the life and the world you knew. I'm gonna follow you."

≻───── ⋆✩⋆ ─────≺

BLOOD.

Blood was everywhere. His hands, his arm, the mahogany floorboards, his favorite t-shirt; he felt like a serial killer that just murdered his tenth victim. His head was spinning, and even though he knew he was crying, he no longer could feel the icy cold water trail down his swollen cheeks — his pale, paper like skin was terribly numb. It was as if his whole body was asleep, instead of just his arm and leg when sitting through a boring lesson in school.

Anxiety consumed his mind, screaming about everything he did wrong now or in the past. Look at this situation, it told him, you are completely fucked. It was mostly physical, however. Sweat drenched his forehead, making his dark bangs stick around his bloodshot eyes, and his heart was beating so, so fast. He was confused — everything was turning and his eyesight was limited to just his immediate surroundings. If he didn't try to see, all that engulfed his vision was a deep, stark black. He wasn't aware that his body was the one panicking, not himself.

It felt like the world was ending. It wasn't, but he began to believe that maybe it was. It was for him.

He tasted the salty tears that managed to trickle down his face and get caught in the cracks of his malnourished lips. They didn't taste great. It reminded him of the time he would cry in the restroom after his friends stopped talking to him.

For a minute, he forgot about dying. Small things that entered his brain suddenly became the worse thoughts imaginable. What if he got a bad grade on the test he took today? What if he had another sleepless night? Why won't anyone ever notice him? He hoped he could miss school tomorrow, because he didn't really want to do that presentation. All of these things left a deeply unpleasant feeling in his chest that refused to let him go.

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