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The first;
I felt so much pain
I cried for myself
I sobbed thinking about what drove me to do this.
Cleaning the rich blood off the knife after made me scared. Scared of myself.
The last;
I stared off into the distance as I tried to feel
anything, something.
As I dug the tip of the knife deeper and deeper into my thigh.
Sawing back and forth
Back and forth.
When I was satisfied with the amount of blood I drew
I set down my weapon
Wiped up the blood that had dripped down my leg and pooled on the floor.
Held pressure on my open wound.
Wrapped up my bloody kleenexes to destroy the evidence.
Ran the knife under water.
And went on with my day.
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Somebody loves you, if not I love you, I love you anyways, you are worth not doing this.
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