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The not really knowing, the not being able to ask the questions, the pretending that I’m ok, the grief that I have to hide, the not being human, not being me.
I’m not what you wanted and I can’t fake it because I like being me.
I’m not what anyone wants and I can’t fake it like everyone else does.
But at least I tried. No one tries for me but at least I did for them, for you.
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