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there’s no bravery without fear, no courage without that awful lump at the back of your throat and the turning of your stomach.
you will survive.
you will survive.
it’s been thirteen point seven seven two billion years since you were created, and you are fucking cosmic. you have shone in night skies before day and night existed. you are a fluke, a chance, something so utterly unlikely that the odds are incalculable. and yet there you stand. a miracle
you will see everybody else and find yourself lacking
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