I sat in my parents' bathtub during my Christmas break, letter in hand, reading these words over and over. I had the razor in my other. Maybe she's right. Maybe I didn't try hard enough. Maybe this is better for everyone else because then they won't have to deal with my crazy.
Or maybe not.
Maybe she's wrong, I thought. Maybe I'm here right now because I got pissed off about being labeled and misjudged and knew I had to put the razor down if I was going to do any good in writing, sharing all of my experiences, and showing this bitch just exactly who she was dealing with.
So you see, Internet, I take it a little personally when you go after a troubled, depressed girl who cries out for help and answer that cry with a laugh.
Shame on you. Shame on you all.
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