I think that we’re all mentally ill. Those of us outside the asylums only hide it a little better - and maybe not all that much better after all.
— Stephen King
She was too quiet, or she was too loud. She took things too seriously, or not seriously at all. She was too sensitive, or too cold-hearted. She hated with every fiber of her being, or loved with every piece of her heart. There was no in-between for her. It was either all or nothing. She wanted everything but settled for nothing.
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