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Fragmented Self who wanders through life like a dreamer and wades through the river of dreams as though it were the only truth left in this world
Were you Talking to me?
He's caught on to what I wanted in the therapy session. It's comforting to go home after he's figured it out.

I don't know how she does it. I wore twice as much as she would and I felt shame. I felt guilty for the lingering states and hungry men asking me to speak to them, to give them a chance. But I would not. I don't understand how she could just dive into the lust. It overcame me in the Muni. I admit, I was checking out his pants and I didn't feel shame. I felt hunger and desire and lust, so deep that I was shaking afterward.





 
 
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