Nobody knows the real me. Nobody knows how many times I've sat in my room and cried, how many times I've lost hope, how many times I've been let down. Nobody knows how many times I've had to hold back the tears, how many times I've felt like I'm about to snap but don't just for the sake of others. Nobody knows the thoughts that have gone through my head whenever I'm sad, and how horrible they really are. When I cry about one thing, I cry about everything that's wrong. What's the point? Cause in the end they'll judge me anyways so whatever.
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