depression
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I was living in mirages, living in a dream I wished I could fulfill but now realising I could not. My mortality stared me in the face and forced me to acknowledge it.
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My social anxiety, I think, was born out of a need to be loved; to be accepted. And indeed I was accepted, but only under certain conditions. First, as the fat one. Then, as the stuttering one. Followed by smart, the the snooty intellectual. Whenever I tried to show that I was more than just…
wiseMusings 