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We suffer in silence. We hunker and hide in fear of being judged imperfect, unlovable, high maintenance, and insane. We do not speak of it. And it is killing us by the numbers.
feel as if I’m being insufficiently entertaining. I live in terror of small talk and inevitably start to babble just to fill the silence. Then after I hang up, I revisit the conversation in my head in red-faced horror at the stupid things I must have said.
This is my life. I could really relate to Kat, but I'm not sure reading about my insecurities and reliving them made me feel any better about them...