Was it me? Was there something I did, I said, that made people inherently not trust me? I didn’t gossip. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d shared someone else’s secret. I did draw people sometimes without their knowledge. Maybe that was an invasion. Except very few saw my sketches. After showing Father and Margot when I was younger and being met with scowls, I’d mostly kept my art to myself. So what was so wrong with me that no one trusted me? Or was it really a lack of trust? Maybe the heart of the issue was faith. No one believed in me. No one had trust that I was capable. I couldn’t
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