Stories

Cult Feelings

Slowly overtime, he wore me down. He had an opinion about everything I did. And if I didn’t do it right, or by his standard, then he made small comments. Simple harmless jokes. Nothing that would stand out on its own as abusive.

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Write about something you regret . . .

This had been the same story during the 4 years that I was working on my degree. Everything I turned in was late. Everything I wrote was half-researched. Nothing I did made me proud. And now it was all over.

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