melle-belle's Diaryland Diary

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And I hate her.

I wish I would have become a scholar, a professor; a researcher, a developer of theories. Why didn't I? Why did I become whatever it is that I am? Something about not having to reveal any of the soft, susceptible parts of myself, not having to risk anything I truly valued to the possibility of utter failure. Whatever I am, it took nearly nothing to achieve. My feelings were never hurt. My sense of self was never threatened. Absolutely nothing of me went into forming this version of me. And I hate her.

2:14 p.m. - 2009-04-10

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