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Sometimes I think, I think a lot. I’ve never had a moment without melancholy thought. I ask what it’s like to die, or how one could do it. I think about life, and how I’ll get through it.
Teacher teacher, Can I....Sorry...I mean..May I, leave..I can't take the stares,The whispers & the taunts.Teacher teacher,May I excuse myselfBefore it gets any worse.I'm scared,