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I had forgotten what it was like to feel this way—just totally undone by someone’s art, swept up in their emotions. Experiencing my own feelings as too big for my skin.
I remember exactly what it was like to be that young, and to need someone to tell me who and what I was.
But why did total strangers get to weigh in? What right did they have to judge me? And when did I decide I cared what they thought?
