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Wordcount: 5204
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A quest for identity: my autobiography
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I can still feel the frustration and confusion that characterized my childhood. It is only recently that I have started shedding light on that period through psychotherapy. Before that, it was just a big painful blur. The sensation of just not being good enough to be accepted is what has stayed with me since those days.
I always thought I hated my mother, I didn’t think she was worth my love. I thought she didn’t love me. I thought she was stupid and ignorant. I locked her out of my life for some fifteen years except the random phone call twice or three times a year. I had no mother. I didn’t miss her, how can you miss someone if they’ve never been present. I didn’t need her, or so I thought.
I was a little girl, not very pretty. Short b
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