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Maybe one day you’ll be able to look at me the same as everyone else. Maybe one day I won’t be that girl in the corner with the scars on her arms, I won’t be the one who’s got the bad past, I’ll be just like you. Maybe I’ll fit in again and be liked.

But then again maybe I don’t wanna be like you, maybe I want to be know for my scars because they are simply what make me me. They show my story but only to me, they’re personal like a tattoo only me and a few others know the story behind them.

I’m just waiting for the day when everybody else realises that. When everybody realises that what I’m going through is only making me stronger.

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