I hide in plain sight and make life harder for her because I love her. I want to protect her from the others. I make sure that she doesn’t say or do the wrong thing. It’s awful when I let her do things impulsively. Shame feels different for me. For her, its white-hot heat slowly rising from her stomach to her forehead. For me, I get burned alive. Scorched. I’m protecting her, yes, and myself. Call me selfish, but I …
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