When I was at school, I was called ugly. I cried. I did not understand why this is happening. And it took me many years to believe in myself. Believe that I'm beautiful. And to understand that it's not in my appearance, the reason for the cruelty of classmates. And in the fact that I was not like everyone else. I did not smoke, did not drink, did not try drugs, I studied well and wrote books. And they called me Quasimodo. I grew up and became what I dreamed of becoming. I am a writer, I am a beautiful woman, I love and love me. But the little girl who was mocked at school still cries inside of me.
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