I was a loner. And a cynic. I pored over philosophy books on Friday nights with a box of wine. The little time I did spend with other people ended in debates over the state of humanity, which I believed was doomed. I went to class. I wrote my papers. I passed by on the conveyor belt largely unnoticed. I listened to music, blasting, in my apartment in the slums of Worcester, Massachusetts. I would go hiking and camping whenever my meager funds allowed me. I prided myself in being a headstrong woman, rejecting all the societal norms that tried to confine me.
Every relationship I was ever a part of served only to further amplify my loneliness. I could not find a solid rock to stand on anywhere, so I set my sights on a peak unseen and began to climb. But on top of cliffs is not where we were meant to dwell.
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