What am I supposed to say, that if I were loved, that would make my entire life bearable? Not even bearable, but validate my very existence on the planet. That I am fucking angry at… the world, at God for doing this to me? For birthing me to my parents? For making me look the way I look? For no one ever helping me, ever? For living in a world where my real life is a secret, for being told that the part of me that is visible is too visible? That I am so sick of hearing people say what I am or am not? And yet simultaneously wanting everyone, to tell me what they want me to be so I can just be
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