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Behind closed doors, you see the cracks if you care to look.
“I don’t know how not to care,” I said. “I know,” she sighed. “You just need to try harder. This is far too much.”
And then there was the strong desire for someone to save me if I couldn’t save myself.
Do you know how hard I worked to be a better person? How hard I worked to be good and kind and quiet, to speak correctly like everyone else, to not cause any trouble, and to never let things spiral out of control? To not be the center of attention? To not be spiky?
