A short story about feeling alone.

Is there a price to pay for being true to yourself, despite the scars and discolouration, despite being misunderstood, despite making horribly stupid mistakes, no one thought you needed help, no one knew you were scared,  no one knew where you were heading, is there a price, or is freedom the price and the reward at the same time?

No one to blame, no one to lean on, no one to share the good, just one, alone, to contemplate it all from one perspective, all alone we come into the world, all alone we leave.

Freedom, is being alone and being ok.

Being true to yourself sometimes makes you feel very alone, but free at the same time,

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