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No. 27899
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>>27897
It seems to me like they're both routes to the same place, though I wouldn't quite know.
In my early life I was alone; I was mostly just numb, sometimes I'd cry myself to sleep, but I still had an ember of hope keeping me going. Had that continued, nagging hope would have faded to cold, crushing despair. Not just the 'sucking hole in the gut' feeling I'd been having, but like there's an anvil sitting on my chest, like my heart wants to stop beating.
Judge for yourself if that's any better or worse than your situation. Had things continued that way I probably would have killed myself after losing faith in college.
The people I grew attached to weren't taken from me, the relationships collapsed under their own weight, so I don't know what that's like. But I no longer wish for death because I don't blame myself for what happened. And I no longer feel that despair because I don't hate myself anymore. At least, I'm trying not to.
Maybe at least be a friend to yourself.
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