Personal Experience: Suffering in Silence

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I am laying in bed at my house staring up at the ceiling waiting for the day to begin. What brought me to this point was more than the physical or mental need for sleep, what led me here has spanned the course of my high school career, a series of blackened days each exactly like the one before it has led me to this place.
I suppose that after waking up about 4 times I should get out of bed but I feel nauseous at the prospect of another day. Here I am seventeen years old, a time in life when most people always have something going on in the morning, and yet I try my best to sleep the day away.
Slowly I move to my mirrored closet feeling as though I'm walking through Jell-O, each step a deliberate effort, although my body is young and healthy. I often wish that life came with a conveyor belt that I could just step on and ride to get where I need to go.
Most days sleeping seems a less painful way to spend the hours than living. My dreams are my only escape. If I could, I’d love to, oh-so-neatly, slip into the shoes of one of my friends who smilingly surround me. What does it feel li...

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