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15:03 on 10.13.02
"pieces of you" i used to be very depressed. i didn't know what to do, i didn't know who to go to. i would sit in my room and think of how horrible my life was, how horrible i was. i didn't want to live. i wanted to die, i wanted to slit my wrists and watch myself bleed, but no matter how much i wanted to sink a blade into my flesh, i couldn't make myself flip the knife over. so i sat with the dull end of a knife running against my skin. at the same time, i loved to write. i would write in my journal for hours. i realized that i should channel all of my anger and frustration into poetry. so i'd sit in my room and write poem after poem about how i felt as if i had been shattered and my millions of pieces were spread across the floor. because that was how i felt. so there's a piece of me. -chelsea written for pieces-ofyou
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