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No. 35315
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When I was little, I wanted to help people. I didn't know how, but I just wanted to make people happy.
Then people started hurting me, and kept on hurting me. Stealing my things, punching without leaving marks, throwing heavy objects at me. Going out of their way to make me miserable simply because I was there, because I was quiet, because I didn't want to make any trouble. I still have the scars to remember the things they pulled. Oh, the faculty tried its best to stop them, but there were always two jerks to replace the one that got in trouble. This started in preschool, and didn't end until I graduated high school.
My ability to trust and bond with people has never recovered. And I absolutely hate bullies.
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