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A fragment of the Garden of Remembering

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But that's the problem. So many of these masks, so many of my lies, they're not my own. They never were. I've always preferred the truth, but so often, people don't want to hear it. They refuse to see it, even when it's staring them right in the face, and instead they fill in the narrative with lies, they create their own masks to cover it up. And I'm no different. There are things I never wanted to know, either, things I would have believed anything to never have had to confront. Only time wears it all down again.