And, I find myself wondering who would really miss me if I moved from Deptford to wherever. I ask myself, "Who really matters to me?" Then again, I'd be my regular five year old self again, complaining about every little thing. I want my pain to stop but it never seems to end. Everyday something just seems to go worse, and it's hard to cope with. I've been told i'm so much stronger than this, but i'm no longer as strong as they tell me. I'm not one to cry twice in the same week, but here I am crying as I type every single letter. I'll just stop..
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