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maybe if you're lucky the random avatar will sync up to the character you're reading right now
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The bang sounded through the room. The sound began to ring through his ears again. The room didnít seem to spin - the gun hadnít moved, he didnít lose his balance - and the image stood still. He could see it clearly, now. Jasper - his friend - lying there. Head bleeding. Head partly gone. Dead.

He did that.

Breathe in, breathe out.

Breathe in, breathe out.

But no he couldnít he couldnít breathe he couldnít think the room span and his mind span and

sorry for the invisitext, everybody who happened to find this, but it'ssteps back. Body moving. Couldnít see it. Didnít see it. Didnít want to see it. His body moved. His body span. Mind span. He didnít know where he was going and what was happening and where he was or anything didnít know didnít know didnít know and

slightly neccecery. Zetaboards isn't letting me start lines in the middle and I need that so... hit the floor. Stop moving. Stop spinning. Nothing was in his hands. He couldnít feel anything. The floor touched his face. His body. It was the only thing he felt. Saw. There was nothing else. This was it.

Wait, no, he had to get up. Anything could happen. He had to do something.

He had to.

But he couldnít.

He wouldnít.

He had killed Jasper. Everything - all that had happened - was his fault. He knew that. Everyone knew that. They were right and he didnít know and he didnít want to and he couldnít move and he wasnít moving and
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Thanatophobia · Group Therapy