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Compounded

I am… not happy.

What was crippling melancholy has now become a festering anger. If only I could just have a bubble of peace just to myself. Somewhere I could retreat when I can’t take the world anymore.

It’s two extremes. It’s either I don’t exist or people are in my face all the time. There’s just no equilibrium to it.

It’s so unpleasant, being stuck in this cycle of hatred. The only thing that changes is who I hate – myself or them.

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