“I’ve not been particularly good at caring about other people. I mean—I care about them when I think about them. I guess I’m not good at the thinking about them part. I just hyperfocus on myself. Eyes on my own paper. I trust, falsely, foolishly, that everyone else has their shit together and just as I don’t need their help, they don’t need my help. And…they do sometimes need my help. And—” More truth that didn’t want to come free, like she was holding in vomit and knew she’d feel better once she puked it up but still tried really hard not to puke it up. “And sometimes, I need their help, too.
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