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Too Real
This is all too real. I whisper your name in my sleep. I’m dreaming about you. I dream that you leave me and run from as if I’m a freak. I guess I am. A broken little piece of trash. I’ve been kicked around. I’ve been disposed of and forgotten. I’ve never really mattered too much to people. They don’t notice when I’m gone because they have their own lives to live and they don’t care enough to include me. Never have. I’m used to hiding. I‘m so used to being forgotten. I just wish I could forget myself. Forget the ugliness, forget the pain. I wish I could forget how broken I feel and I wish I knew the honest opinion of people about me. I wonder how many people lie to me because I lie to myself everyday. I tell myself... You’re not that ugly. You’re not that fat. You’re not that stupid. I am all of these. I hate waking up in the morning and have to think....Should I eat? Or would help me drop a pound not to? I hate being in class and wonder...Should I raise my hand? Or will it make me look more stupid? I hate having to second guess every step I take and every word I say.
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