that's right - you heard me. fake.
i'm like a shiny new present for shredded papers - on the outside, you want to open me, to look inside, because the packaging is so shiny, you're drawn, like moths to a flame. but when you open it up, all you find are crumples and remnants of the possible. because those shreds, represented what this person could have been, but chose instead to destroy.
i am not perfect. i am not whole.
i am just ... another human.
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