This is why I don’t share what’s most important to me, that often, anymore.
“How can you like this, her voice is just awful!”
“Your hero looks like she belongs in a battered women’s shelter- and how about that husband of hers?”
“It’s about anorexia, a condition you are far from facing.”
“Can you really sing those notes? Really?”
“Oh, OK.”
My own validation is all that matters, but it saddens me to think- screaming my heart out on rooftops or selling my soul online would gain a better reaction than simply confiding in you.
Here I go again…
You’ll never even read this.
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