The story and its writer

January 30, 2009
She sat alone in her room day after day. She cared what people thought. She wanted to tell her friends her problems, but they didn't care. Until one day she pulled the blade across her skin until the red ink showed. Her story written on her arms. She had lines all scarred there. She went further and further until one day it all flashed before her eyes when she wrote a sentence, a part of her story, there on her arm. The doctors read her story. They said they didn't understand, that it was a scare. She needed to stop and she did the day she said The end.

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