69 books
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“
I looked in the mirror a lot during this time. The body I once recognised as my own had melted away. Who was this creature beneath the fat? At the time, I failed to recognise her as my best self. I thought she was nothing like a real girl. I thought she looked like something a pervert imagined; something a twelve-year-old boy doodled in the back of a notebook.
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The transition from being hurt to hurting was natural. Even though I didn’t really know why he’d started crying – it felt like something I did. It felt like being a great big black widow and realizing that all the male spiders were tiny and weak and covered in soft vulnerable bits, whereas I had this hard, shiny thorax and great big teeth.
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