And I wondered what it was like to be chosen.
I was never chosen.
I was a maybe, a probably, sometimes even a definitely but never the one,
never the chosen one.
Unknown
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"How do you tell someone that the reason you're sad is because you love them?"
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"And the sad part is I was getting better.
And now I'm not"
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From the bottom of my worthless heart, I genuinely don’t know if I can survive another year.
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"I may think of you softly from time to time. But I’ll cut off my hand before I ever reach for you again."
//Arthur Miller, The Crucible: A Play in Four Acts
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All I do is fuck things up why do I even bother anymore I want to give up
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Nobody should be surprised when I don’t wake up one morning….
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you ever feel like you were born with something rotten inside you and if people get close enough they’re gonna find out
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I feel so broken and unloved and worthless and disgusting and annoying and unlovable and sad and depressed and suicidal and just so so fucking alone.
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