eleanor

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It wasn’t deliberate, a vindictive operation to thwart the loving efforts of my parents and everyone who’d invested their energy in my recovery. It was just the only way I knew to get by in life by now, the tools I’d picked up to arm myself against the inevitable pain of existing, because nobody had managed to teach me an alternative.
The Opposite of Butterfly Hunting: The Tragedy and The Glory of Growing Up: A Memoir
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