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By AnonymKaimana Wolff
Being sick successfully is not included in society’s panoply of worthy goals.
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By AnonymKaimana Wolff
How good the past can look from a rest stop in a bitter future!
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By AnonymKaimana Wolff
Somehow it felt familiar, an old story retold, the claws in my shoulder, my arms twisted behind my back, the drag down the street, Will assisting my father and thinking how much fun it was to hunt someone down. I knew it all. Each snarled command was a line from an old but faithless song. “Pipe down! I’m not going to hurt you! I just want to talk to you! This is for your own good!
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By AnonymKaimana Wolff
Yes, indeed, I am the stuff, the prize property, the recaptured trophy he will put up on the mantelpiece, in a rage every time I move a millimeter or look less polished, less tarted up than he thinks I should look. In a rage, every time I disappoint him. Which will happen every day.
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