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a space for youth writing on mental health & identity
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a space for youth writing on mental health & identity
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![]() taps on the door and other clichés, sometimes i wonder if i cry too much. now i didn’t know there was an upper limit to salted tears and wilted water, a quota on how much redness could take over a face until i felt myself cold on the ground, having hit the ceiling and ricocheted back-- i was never the best at physics but
i could have sworn i used to float. Comments are closed.
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Unless otherwise noted, all pictures used are open-source images in the public domain. Archives
May 2023
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