jiteythepenholder
I stared at that bulb for hours. It mocked me, and my helpless tears. Flickering in laughter the light stared down at my worthlessness. At my ruined flesh, at the cuts that through my sheets, I stopped caring about the stains, and my dad did too. Heck, nobody cared. To be honest, I loved the pain because it made me feel something real. Each incision excited me, and I would watch in awe as blood appeared all over my scarred arms, so would the bulb.
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