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u know why i dont ever do those "rate my day" or whatever the fuck they're called?
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bc every day is the fucking same. nothing new, nothing changes. every day, a nightmare. constant screaming, yelling, fighting, crying. people leaving. s o m e o n e hitting me. touching me. scratching me, insulting me. telling me to get the fuck out if i dont "stop being forced into being trans bc my friends are". "Stop liking things just bc ur friends like them". how long. how long..has it been, since i would actually smile. since i could say, "life is ok." years. 8 years. they dont care. they dont see u the way u see them. just move on, and get fucked over again. the cycle repeats. stay up all night crying and imagining what life would have been like if that one day didnt happen. if i didnt go to school, would I be dead too? and my dad would just be alone? "ur trauma isnt real, no one is abusing u. Get over it." "anxiety isnt real, ur just lazy." u dont know me. u dont know me, any more than i would know a complete stranger. I would have been better off with those successful attempts, but no, u had to be there, didn't u? just to rub it in my face that my attempts failed. just to make it worse, and to make me want to try again. I see the blade. i see it in the drawer every day, mocking me. It's telling me I should, but every time i see it, i slam the drawer shut. and get more flashbacks. nothing feels real anymore. am i even here? it feels like a dream, it's hard to tell. the constant ringing after i was thrown and was bleeding from the head, never stopped. I still hear her voice. I miss her, i loved her. and yet u mock the reason she died as if its a joke. is that what I am to u? a joke? u don't ever listen or take me seriously, I might as well be.
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