4 years
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I have no future for myself, and I know people say it gets better, but I already know my fate. Whether it’s next month or next year, I will eventually just end it, and there’s no helping me. I can’t be fixed. There’s a part of me that will always be empty, and that’s okay to me. I’d be only one of many losses. The world will still go ’round. Every little thing sets me off uncontrollably, and the first option for any inconvenience is to stop living. I believe I would do everyone a favor being gone. I make people upset to match how I’m really feeling inside, and it’s destructive. Removing the problem is step one in my procedure, and by fate, it’s me.

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