The shames I feel from the things that bring me joy are not exclusively limited to pleasure, every action I take elicits some guilt or another, yet, I feel no hand in choosing this struggle, the daily contention with the singular challenge of simply being myself, though, I do truly despise the constant battle with vanity, the pain in presumption of knowing anything at all, the uncertainty at the periphery of the certainty of any fact, being driven by the doubt written in my programming. The whole thing makes me want to die so bad I could kill myself.

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