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I got singled out. I don't know why. Why do people always target me? Is it because I'm short and they figure I can't fight back? They're right, I can't, but it's not because I'm vertically challenged.
Julie Anne Peters
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Julie Anne Peters
Age: 72
Born: 1952
Born: January 16
Author
Engineer
Writer
Jamestown
New York
Fight
Fighting
Singled
Back
Vertically
Right
Challenged
Always
Target
People
Figure
Figures
Short
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What you see, isn't always what you get
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She responds by kissing me harder and longer and deeper. She loves me too. She's just afraid.
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I'm scared. What will tomorrow bring? It has to be better than today. It has to.
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As they were carting him off on a gurney, all I could think was, I wish that was me.
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Our eyes met across the crowded room, like in the movies, except we didn't share a knowing smile and race into each other's arms. Instead I fell into the trash can.
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I had to fight so hard not to cry.
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I didn't tell him. And I never told her the whole truth. What would it matter? There was nothing she could do nothing anyone can do or will do.
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You would never understand, Kim. You think I'm normal you wish I was.
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...When I asked [my dad why the sky was blue] he said it was because God's a boy. If God were a girl, the sky would be pink. 'What about sunrise and sunset?' I'd asked. Dad had looked dumbfounded. 'You kids. You think too much.' It frightened me how shallow the gene pool was that Liam and I were wading in.
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Yet, when we talked, when we were together, she seemed so familiar. Seemed to know who I was, where I was coming from. She knew me better than I knew myself, I think. She was easy to be with. And I wanted to be with her, like all the time.
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That same piercing screech in her voice every time at the hospital. Do something! When I slit my wrists. Help her! The last time too. Somebody help her. Help us! You're helpless, both of you. All of us.
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I suppose I'll be remembered as dull. Timid. No one ever knew me. People came. They went. I was kind, I think. Not sympathetic, but considerate of others. I always gave up my place in line. I loaned out pencils and paper, or let people take them from me. I never reported a sexual assault.
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Everyone's a liar. Everyone I've ever known.
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Why are people so cruel? What did I ever do to them?
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It was all about hate. There should be laws. We're there laws? Can you legislate against hatred?
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I hated him. I hated them all. They made me hate myself even more than I already did.
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I think about my choice. Either outcome is bleak. If I stay and live through high school, go to college, get a job, what will ever change? This blackness inside will never go away. I don't make friends I'll always be alone. If I go, at least there's hope of peace. Chance of a new and better life on the other side.
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But I'm no hero. I had to keep my dirty little secret. The worst sin I committed was holding it in letting the secret blacken me.
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I have no intent. I have no reason to live, that's all. When I'm gone, I don't want to be remembered.
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I don't have alot of people to talk to. Not alot of people are worth my time.
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