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I can't just ignore my feelings anymore. I ******** hate myself; I'm no good at music, I don't even know why I'm still in orchestra. I can't play a single note right. I've never been good at cello, or at anything for that matter. I can't do anything right. I don't belong in orchestra; I don't even belong with life. I deserve to get ******** by a tree. Maybe if I'm lucky it'll ******** kill me, and leave my carcass s**t to decay, fertilize the soil, and maybe actually be something useful for once.