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That I had wasted fifteen years allowing my brain to rot, my creative talents to fester and my beauty to hide under a thick, scratchy blanket of self-doubt and pathetic apathy. The truth was, I had abandoned everything my mother had taught me and spent my entire adult life settling and making do. I had not strived, fought, adventured, embraced, been inspiring or inspired. I had barely laughed. Come on, Ruth. You can waste a whole load more years lamenting the lost ones, or make darn sure you don’t waste another second of the ones you have left. For pity’s sake. You’ve cried enough.
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