[He can't make his fingers type out any other message. No matter how long he stares at the phone, no matter how long he tries to hold onto his precious moments of clarity, he can't think of anything else but that. It's not good he's alive. It hurts. Deep down in the parts of him that still feel like the old Adam, he's scared all the time even when there are people in the room to keep him from clawing ribbons out of his skin. If he had the choice, he'd rather be nothing than be in Hell.
And this? This isn't living, no matter what anyone says. This is one degree away from Hell in all the ways that matter, or so it feels like on days like these.]
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[He can't make his fingers type out any other message. No matter how long he stares at the phone, no matter how long he tries to hold onto his precious moments of clarity, he can't think of anything else but that. It's not good he's alive. It hurts. Deep down in the parts of him that still feel like the old Adam, he's scared all the time even when there are people in the room to keep him from clawing ribbons out of his skin. If he had the choice, he'd rather be nothing than be in Hell.
And this? This isn't living, no matter what anyone says. This is one degree away from Hell in all the ways that matter, or so it feels like on days like these.]