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It never hurts to do some fake suicide attempts before you real one
Species Sneasel
Age 17
Level 53
Types Dark-type.png Ice-type.png
Gender Male
Home Mt.Silver
Trainer Wild
Carrying diary
Nature Unspecified

Now I bet you came clicking that little link hoping for a nice story, one of pleasent experiences, my story is not one of those.

Where Do I Begin?

Many pokemon when hatched from eggs are raised by loving parents who will nurture and protect you. Well I hatched alone on Mt.Silver, the cess-pool of elite trainers flaunting the high leveld pokemon they enslaved. I lived in fear in the caverns deepest places where I hoped the trainers forgot to bring a pokemon with the flash HM.

So Anyways

I found myself one day at the nearby Pokemon Center and I saw a group of about 7 young trainers, they were all wearing black and had wierd hair and talked about how their lives were horrible. So to be unique I decided to copy everything they did. When I saw them slitting wrists I knew this was the right choice, my claws are perfect for that sort of activity.

Why My Life Is A Black Abyss of Sorrow and Pain

Well for one thing having claw hands makes it impossible to do just about everything. This wiki page? Took me six keyboards to type. Furthermore nobody believes I'm really an emo because of my pink feathers, what am I supposed to do about that? Also I'm the worst at suicide attempts I've had about six so far. One time I tried using a noose and I kept cutting the rope. I used a life orb to kill myself and I was revived at a Pokemon Center, and another time I tried reading through all of pichu's twitter messages hoping my brain would explode.

Lastest Tweets

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