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Instead of breaking into a million pieces like I wanted to, I shoved my trauma back into the deep recess of my brain,
I’d never pretended to be completely sane, mentally well, physically well, or spiritually well. In summary, I was unwell.
A part of me loved that I looked like an edgy bitch with my pretty hair. The other part of me wanted to scrub off my makeup, put on sweatpants, lie down, and read a book.