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Once you name something, it stops you seeing the whole of it, or why it matters. You focus on the word, which is just the tiniest part, really,
but he noticed—of course he did, he notices everything.
I didn’t know it then, but it was too late—I had internalized my father, introjected him, buried him deep in my unconscious. No matter how far I ran, I carried him with me wherever I went. I was pursued by an infernal, relentless chorus of furies, all with his voice—shrieking that I was worthless, shameful, a failure.
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