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That’s why I keep things to myself. I have my friends. They know my past, they accept me for who I am, and they let me be the realistic, slightly crotchety girl in the corner. No need to change anything about that. It works.
No, I wasn’t abused. I was mentally and emotionally fucked over. If there was one thing my mom taught me it was this: Never be vulnerable or give power to another human. Because they might try to decimate my life too.
