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I will always apologize for my existence.
To be alive is in this world, in this humanness, is quite exhausting.
I am convinced I am wrong to be here as this; this living being, this whole person who has thoughts that can be spoken aloud.
I was meant to be something living, but quiet.
Something that has a voice, but no words that can be spoken.
I suppose, like a breeze that just whispers past.
A breath of wind that is craved on a warm day, but dreary in the winter.
I am meant to be a part of this world but not like this.