irock12129
There was once a girl named Fawn. She loved all animals, and had bright orange hair. She doesn't care what people think of her, which makes her unique. People think she's strange, and often talks about her behind her back.
A hundred miles left to go. A hundred miles full of laughs, tears, happiness, and sorrow. Only one hundred miles full of memories. The good and bad. A hundred miles, minutes, hours, days, years.
Another deep warm breath. A breath that fills my lungs with air, and my mind with peace. I hear my breathing, going in and out, in and out. It's peaceful, and a beautiful sound.
I drag the blade across my delecite skin, and the red warm liquid rises above.
I tell them I don't need help. They believe me. I've lied to my family, my friends, myself. I tell them that I am fine. But I may not be. I don't know when I'll take out my blade again.
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We all need a little help.
Help. Help to fight the battle to not lean over the toilet and force myself to vomit. To eat everyday. To not drag the blade across my skin.