Dear Diary,
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I'm writing this by the light of the moon, trying to process the emotions that have been swirling inside me for as long as I can remember. Growing up has been a journey of pain, of struggles, of trying to find my place in this world.
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I remember the first time I felt like I didn't belong. I was 8 years old, and my parents were fighting again. The screams, the tears, the feeling of being trapped in a war zone. I felt so small, so helpless. I just wanted it to stop.
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As I grew older, the pain didn't go away. It just morphed into different forms. I struggled in school, feeling like I was stupid, like I'd never be good enough. I remember the teacher's words, "Debbie, you're just not living up to your potential." The sting of those words still lingers.
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And then there were the friendships. Or rather, the lack thereof. I always felt like an outsider, like I was looking in from the outside. I'd try to join in, to be part of the group, but I always ended up feeling like I didn't belong.
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But the worst pain of all has been watching my mom suffer. She's been sick for as long as I can remember, and it's been a constant source of worry, of fear. I feel so helpless, like there's nothing I can do to make it better.
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Sometimes I wonder if anyone truly understands me. If anyone gets the depth of my pain, the weight of my struggles. It feels like I'm drowning in a sea of emotions, with no lifeline in sight.
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But despite all the pain, despite all the struggles, I'm still here. I'm still fighting. I'm still holding on to hope. And maybe, just maybe, that's enough.
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Yours truly,
Debbie
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