There once was -

-a reason. but I am adrift once more.
My name is Rachel. I'm 22. Sometimes I can
be interesting.

You silly little girl, you think you’ve survived so long that survival shouldn’t hurt anymore. You keep trying to turn your body bullet proof. You keep trying to turn your heart bomb shelter. You silly thing. You are soft and alive. You bruise and heal. Cherish it. It is what you are born to do.

How can this still hurt me so much?

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