I remember the time when I would mope at my own discrepancies. Then, I realized that it was actually the people I was surrounded with that made me feel that way.
The egoistic, individualistic culture and toxic criticisms killed all the hopes that I had. It wasn’t a good sign. I left.
But you know, when you have your fill of worst things, you view things differently. You doubt people a lot. Trust is lost. The kindness and generosity I received the past years felt like something I did not deserve. And that in some way, somehow, there is something in it for exchange. I wasn’t happy. I was lost. I sulked at the thought of what-ifs.
I realized how broken I was. The pain I carried for so many years was burrowing a hole inside me. I was never healed; I just pretended to be. And I still am.
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