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Was it me? Is it always me? What do I do to people? Is it them? Why is it so hard for us to be sweet, and kind, and..and..mm..
When I reached my edge, a boy came to me as if seemingly out of nowhere. I felt like an awful person, and I still feel like an awful person. Like a monster, sometimes inhuman. He didn't come along and tell me I wasn't those things. He just told me the way I was..he liked it. I want to believe him so badly. It's so cruel that I've been stopping myself.
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