/r/TwoSentenceSadness
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“Maybe if my life can reset, then I can tell my young self that being an artist is what I always wanted to be,” I thought as the rope tightens around my neck.
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Mother, when I was young, I was touched and raped, you beaten me with a bamboo stick called me a whore; mother, when I trying to put on make up in high school, you slapped me on the face and called me a whore; you called me that again, and again
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