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October 7, 2011
There was a time when my mind split into a thousand different pieces. The good, the bad, the young, the fragile, the witch, the boy, the one with the mask and puppet string fingers...

Every bit of me that I had hidden inside congealed, intensified, and finally broke out with voices of their own. It was a terrifying experience.

Worse than waking up someplace completely new with wounds I couldn't remember was the shame. Everyone knew now. They could see why I hated myself. They witnessed every bad trait I owned (almost).

How? How could they possibly love me now?