Yes, endlessly, shamelessly, I tell stories
Stories justify my need for empathy, to let you know just how cursed and broken my family is. If my story makes you pity me just a little bit, I might feel less self-conscious about my privilege. It can’t all be good, and just when it seems like the picture is perfect, fate throws a rock at it, shattering its shiny surface and creating sharp-edged fragments you need to be careful not to walk on.
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