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I wound up triggered by almost nothing this evening and made am idiot of myself. Dammit I am sick of living in a shelter! I miss being able to come home and close my door and know that no one is watching me. Sometimes I NEED to be left alone to calm myself down.
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'...
At poor peace I sing
To you strangers (though song
Is a burning and crested act,
The fire of birds in
The world's turning wood,
For my sawn, splay sounds,)
...'
Dylan Thomas, Author's Prologue
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