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I'm paranoid and depressed. About what I cannot say. This is news to me.

Those words cut deep. So I cut deeper. Deeper than ever before. Could actually see the layers of skin: weird.

No, it isn't his fault. I was the one holding the blade. His words hurt me, I chose how to let them effect me. I am weak.

I may not have given up everything for him. But I gave up what I knew, all that I had.

Its my own fault.