alice / cec
4:12 p.m.

guys. girls. it's called depression. you can't help me by looking at my slashed arms/wrists and telling me how sensitive i am. you can't expect me to come out of my shell when you snap at me on occasion. you're my best friends, you two, but i'm not used to being around people yet. i'm sure that you've worked out by now that when i'm pushed uncomfortable, i get loud. so don't tell me i giggle too much, because it's all i've got left.

love,

stacey

p.s i heart you very much, don't be angry. i know you try the best you can and i can never repay you. just go easy, eh?

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