I laugh at my life as if it were one magnanimous joke, questioning why I even try anymore, yet finding that giving up feels too easy while persisting seems impossibly hard. I only find my life laughable because who wouldn’t, when each day you work harder than the last, only to sit down after your efforts and face even harsher criticism than before—a never-ending game with no breaks and impossibly strict rules. And when she reflects on her character, she struggles to see herself as generous or kind because she has been labeled as ungrateful and insignificant. When she contemplates that her life might be interesting, she looks back at others' opinions and finds it to be nothing more than boring and fruitless. Others think that someone so young has seen nothing of this world, but I believe I am much more perceptive than the average person my age. I’ve reflected on my own character, scrutinized my issues, and questioned why I have them at all. Why am I callous and cruel? To be called wicked without being recognized— is it an insult or a compliment to my character?
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