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Unnamed
You know, sometimes I feel so awful.
I just want to kill myself.
I imagine myself pulling a gun and blowing out my head.
I imagine myself pulling a knife and stabbing my heart.
But the death I crave for most is to skydive.
I wish to skydive, but without a parachute, some day.
Oh yes, I imagine slicing my head off with a rusty sword.
But none of that matters now.
It will all be over soon.
You’ll see.
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