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I thought writing in my journal would help me.

I thought it would.

Everthing hurts now.

My head is pounding.

Music's lost its spark.

I'm crying now, my mom asks me what's wrong.

I tell her I'm remembering Bambi, everything's fine.

She doesn't persue the matter.

She doesn't care.

Anyone can tell something's wrong.

My vision's blurred.

My head hurts.

I think I'll go to bed now, and not wake up.

Ever.