I’m quite deceptive. When I’m in large crowds who thoughtlessly follow, I’m always the one who takes charge. I make a point of always knowing where I’m going and what I’m doing. I refuse to be viewed as inferior for properties outside of my control. The world sees me as commanding and driven, in-charge and ambitious. When the world looks at me, its senses deceive it.

In reality, I am a masochist. A guilt-ridden, inherently subservient, punishment-seeking masochist. When I love, I idolize. And I don’t fall in love with those I don’t believe deserve utmost admiration and can set a standard for humans to aspire to become. The only way I know how to love is as selflessly as I can conceive. When I don’t meet the standard to which people hold me, I am filled with contempt for my existence. Unless I pour my entire existence into my…

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