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bitches really be out there telling their parents to go fuck themselves in their head but never actually telling them resulting in years and years of pent up emotional trauma that has never been addressed and now use disastrous coping mechanisms and an unhealthy amount of sarcasm. its me, I'm bitches

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loveletter.

my fiancé will never read this letter. he don’t know about my blog and this is okay. sometimes i want write my thought about him here. 

always good thoughts. sweet, pretty, lovely thoughts. he is mine sunshine. my definition of hapiness and innonce, beauty of the life. forever i want to be togehter with him. every second we are apart is like a painful ordeal, a rehearsal. I hate it so much that we're physically separated, be it through work or personal life. every second we are apart is like a painful ordeal, a rehearsal. I hate it so much that we're physically separated, be it through work or personal life. every time an internal murder is like killing myself. But as soon as I see you in the stairwell, the sun rises for me, it doesn't matter how dark or late it is. Even if I'm just sitting on the train, my heart racing. So fast that sometimes I think I'm about to have a heart attack. The days before I go to see you are forever long. the seconds feel like a long journey into a boring musuem. time changes as soon as I think of him. this love you I feel for you is deeply hidden. it goes through all my body cells, leaving an extremely euphoric wave that is comforting. I could look you in the eye for hours, this love behind it, your emotions, your psyche. I never believed in "this" love, rather believed that all of these descriptions were pure metaphors. but honestly, these whole feelings are like pure sweet honey. you taught me what it means to be loved but also to love. to be loved unconditionally, no matter how bad my depression is. no matter how much borderline is overlapping. I admire and envy you for your level-headedness. about your love for people, for children. while I'm raging, you are my pendulum. even you my inner pendulum when you are not there.

It doesn't matter where we are - where you are is my home. you are my Home. I still felt all these sensations that I have now. never. and it's so beautiful. I want to wallow in it. in this sweet euphoria, this love, this something. this ours.

oh. 

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I think there are always people who cannot accept themselves through their bodies. one's own body is identity. Until I was 15 (when I came to a facility where make-up was not allowed and also not my own clothes) I was able to express myself through make-up, clothes and friends and was also well received by others. But the worse I felt my body, the less I could accept myself. But my character is the same. And now I'm walking around like a zombie When I ate I felt alive again. I felt at home again. I was able to switch off cooking alone at home. Shopping is no longer possible for me and everything that happens outside with other people is no longer possible because everyone hates and devalues ​​me. They granted me internet and food. But I don't feel like doing that anymore. I start with Stop eating. When i am dead i dont need the internet.as long as i am Not happy without food i wont eat.

I WANT MORE
Money makes me Happy and witchcraft.

and i feel something like restlessness, panic or nervousness.i should do something but what ?

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Minecraft is a sandbox video game developed by Mojang. The game was created by Markus "Notch" Persson in the Java programming language. Following several early test versions, it was released as a paid public alpha for personal computers in 2009 before releasing in November 2011, with Jens Bergensten taking over development. Minecraft has since been ported to several other platforms and is the best-selling video game of all time, with 200 million copies sold and 126 million monthly active users as of 2020.

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@kukyc​ brought forth survivor’s guilt , sending ; “I wish I could turn back time and do things differently.”

           It’s not every day that someone from the other side would speak of such things . Usually when they did it was more manipulative than sincere , holding onto something only to draw another in , cracking them down because they believed that they turned a new leaf .

Then why was Sora sitting here right next to Vanitas if that were the case ? Because Sora didn’t believe that it was the case .     Vanitas could very easily feel something gnawing deeper into his heart , though he would be quite quick to state differently .

Sora still felt Vanitas and how he fought inner words that threatened him so harshly that things grew overwhelming every now and then .

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❝ What would you do then ? If you could go back , what would you do differently ? Don’t blame yourself for the way some things turn out .          I don’t like to think some things were in your control . Many things were out of your own , how could you have known that ? ❞

Things shaped without consent .    Things broke without you being able to stop them . Things reversed when they were already good .    Things ended up the way they did because . . . circumstances .

The guilt .    The regret .           Was it truly breaking Vanitas layer - by - layer until he finally took this moment to tell Sora ? Sora . Of all people . The very enemy that haunted each other’s dreams was now his sort of consolation and comfort . Their hands rested opposite each other where they sat .

For a breath’s moment or two - they were equals .

Sora couldn’t alter what happened . Sora couldn’t alter the feelings . Sora could only . . . help carry the burden that shouldn’t be Vanitas’ to bear .

                    How is that okay ! ?                                        V a n i t a s ! ?