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Weekly Contest #124
When I was young, I was afraid. I was afraid of being anything other than silent. I hid behind my mother’s legs, behind chairs, and under tables. I would make eye contact with someone and quickly turn away to stay hidden. Everyone spoke over me, and I often let them to not draw too much attention to myself. I was afraid, and it was as simple as that. Getting older didn’t change that. My voice was required more, but it didn’t change that it was quiet. I stuttered over my words and hid in books and notebooks. I wrote what I wished I c...
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