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I hate myself for saying this, but part of me weirdly misses even the people who hurt me. At least they looked me in the eye. At least they acknowledged I existed. You? You didn’t even bother with that. You just treated me like a body, like a problem to be fixed with needles and control. Looking back, I didn’t even know what grooming was, but now I see it for what it was. And somehow, I still catch myself thinking that all that pain was better than being ignored.
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