Tag Archives: fear

Now I’ve done it

I am scared too

Because of who you are my star

Let us throw fear away

Let us learn from each other and play

If we let fear rule us how will we know

Which road was really meant for us to go?

In an instant I reached out to you

Will you reply?

I have no clue

But now I’ve done it

For good or bad

Let’s hope the result won’t be sad

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Fear

I am exhausted by your fears

I feel them as deep as my own

There is nothing to worry about

Courage you should hone

I won’t bite your head off

Or throw away your dreams

Fear makes everything, not what it seems!

Don’t trust the fear that is deep within your heart

Fear is only there, to keep you in the dark!

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What do you see?

So, the huntress is being stalked

I see them in the shadows when I’ve walked

I know they are following my way

I know they are learning how I play

I hear them tittering and I hear them talk

About how far I have walked

But I amusedly walk on

Because they are only a con

I don’t believe what the shadows say

I only believe that they play!

Because why are they hiding away from me?

I think they’re afraid… do you agree?

Too scared to come and talk to me

Or afraid of themselves, now what will it be?

I walk on – maybe forever

But when I hear them… I think…. Whatever!

It’s just a child’s game to you

You enjoy this thing you do

No real intention behind your words

To think there is, would be absurd!

I’ve grown enough to know

The lengths that silly people go

To find amusement in their boring lives

By spreading rumours and lies

I continue on my walk

Maybe someday we will talk?

Maybe not

Why should I care?

If you are still watching from over there?

No business of mine what you do

Unless there are lies that you spew

If there are lies, why did you do that?

Have I offended you?

If I have, then tell me how?

I don’t remember our spat…

I was just walking this lonely path

I didn’t mean to fill you with wrath

I am just ambling through my life

I didn’t mean to cause discontent or strife

So why do you follow and why do you talk?

About me on my path and where I walk?

I don’t understand your mind at all

Maybe I am just a fool

But I am curious why me?

And why so interested you be?

I don’t get it, so I continue on

All these games make me feel wan

It has simply gone on too long

And I need to know, why me?

I am unassuming and I am plain

I have nothing to lose or gain

I sleepwalk through this life of mine

Literally just biding time

I’m bored with life and I have lost my spark

It isn’t fair, if you just lark

I just want to get through my life

Without any more cuttings from a knife

I just want to stop bleeding

I just want to stop needing

I just want the pain to go

I am tired of hate and woe

I live in the shadows for a reason

I have been burned by the hot season

No longer do I wish to feel

My only wish is to heal

My second wish is to remember one thing

What it was like to be happy and sing?

Is that so much to ask of life?

I’m fighting against the after-life

But I am losing strength and heart in that

The deep blue is my habitat

I just wish I knew the truth about you

Why do you watch this creature blue?

What fascination is there about me?

I look in the mirror but I don’t see…

What curiosity is there in me?

Except of course, to capture me…

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Hate

Hate is misunderstanding and fear

Hate is primal and doesn’t endear

Hate is the biting words of anger

Hate is often wrought with danger

Hate can’t love when it’s aroused

Hate is where the ignorant is housed

Hate doesn’t hope to change at all

Hate scratches and scrapes and viciously mauls

That’s what hate is behind these walls

That’s why I call haters fools!

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The happy house

I don’t know what to write lately, so it has me thinking about going back to my old way of doing “Morning pages” to get myself out of this rut, writing random things for three pages; though not in long hand because writing more than half a page a time sets my arthritis off real bad.

I am getting into a rut of mindlessness.

I am becoming apathetic even with my imagination lately; because I think my emotions are literally eating me up, like a monster from the deep blue abyss as I lazily float on the water doing nothing.

I am lying to myself a lot about being productive in doing other things though, but it is lies nonetheless.

What are those supposedly productive things I have lied to myself about? 

Learning how to read the reversals and blockage positions of tarot cards and other types of spreads!

Checking out other people’s blogs or Pinterest boards, usually with the intent to find inspiration for my art or writing, but instead end up looking at the fashion pages or recipes.

Staring at homes wanted for local puppies in resentment that these people have dogs they don’t want and I don’t have a dog but want one.

Reading motivational posts and memes and resenting people being in their happy space, whilst I am still in my apathy and depression… I’m becoming a bad sport as time goes on and that’s totally not like me, I have started to see myself becoming bitter and sour whereas I used to be genuinely happy for other people.

I think I am turning into one of those bitter and sour spinsters you see in Victorian dramas and that scares me as I have never wanted to be like that!

I have even heard myself talking like them lately.  Someone tells me that they are ecstatically happy about something happening in their lives and I have heard myself say under my breath “it won’t last”.  I don’t know what’s got into me, but I am becoming mean.

When someone compliments me or is nice to me I am actually questioning why they did that and why would they want to?

I always thank them and tell them that they are sweet, but I do question their sanity at the same time and I won’t forget to tell them that they are an unusual spark in the world and that they shouldn’t let other people change them, but no doubt the world will, like they did with me.

It’s tragic but true and it’s scary!

I am still playful at times and I try to feign happiness and motivation – but it’s getting harder.  Several times this week I have said something uplifting to Paul, to find him blank and unresponsive and I wonder why I bothered at all to lighten the atmosphere, so I walk off and depression seeps in again!

It’s sad to know I have come to this, because only ten years ago I remember being complimented by a neighbour about how vibrant and happy my house is how I particularly seem to be so positive and laugh at the smallest thing and how I put a smile on their face every day they see or hear me.

How the other neighbours agree with them that this is a happy house that people like to walk past because of a beautiful wildlife garden full of life and hearing the almost constant laughter coming from the opened windows in the summer.

Paul has mentioned the neighbours are concerned about me as they don’t hear me anymore, it’s like I’ve vanished, like I am not here anymore, some have offered to pop in to see me – but Paul tells them it’s best not to – so I asked him why he did that?  He never answers.

I am so different these days and I don’t like it.

Who am I?

Indeed.

Thanks for reading…

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Filed under About Me, Home and Family

Blessings

Blessings come and go

Will you take them when they show?

Or will you ignore how they flow?

Because you are scared to know

That better things are out there for you

What are you afraid of?

Do you have a clue?

If you don’t then what exactly is stopping you?

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Emotionally promiscuous

One thing about me and my poetry is that sometimes I have relapses.

There might be nothing negative going on in my life at all at the time, but then I sit back and I think about something and the old fears come back to haunt me.

What’s worse about all of it is how lonely I am and isolated.  How I haven’t got anyone to really care or love me as pathetic as it sounds.  It’s worse because not only am I needy, I am emotionally promiscuous (though a good girl generally) lol and confirmation bias.

I don’t whine, it’s not my nature.  I am a considerate depressant.

I try to stay happy for people around me; I try not to sap their energy.  I literally shut myself away in a room of my own and absorb myself in gloomy poetry giving you the misconception that this must be my personality – some tragic depressant who mopes around all day looking glum and ugly.

But it’s not true.

I’m one of the happy go lucky people who walks around like some kind of summer camp rep so nobody really knows what’s going on inside me, unless they live with me and catch me out!

I do everything I can to make life a happy place for others, I live for others, I am not motivated by my own selfish needs – this is why I found it essential for me to be “in the lifestyle” (BDSM lifestyle, specifically TPE).

That kind of lifestyle makes me motivated to do things consistently, because my partner or Master as they are usually known, will ensure I don’t have time to think and dwell or makes me utterly focus on them and their needs and expectations. 

I don’t mean to sound horrible or anything, but I wasn’t depressed before I moved in with Paul, my depression was diagnosed at a hospital when Henry was around five months old as being post-natal depression, which I found was wrong because I had absolutely no negative feelings for Henry; Just going through a bad patch with my mum and getting down in life in general because of the state of the house.  I explained this to them, but they wouldn’t have it.

I was at the hospital because of chronic heartburn being mistaken for a heart attack, by the way – at the time my blood pressure was sky high and still hadn’t regulated after the birth!  103 over 145 I think it was at the time!

I was hospitalised regularly with blood pressure and extreme morning sickness when I was pregnant with Henry, morning sickness was so bad I lost approximately thirty pounds in weight before he was even born!

Anyway, I digress…

The fact of the matter is – my poetry sometimes seems aimed at people specifically but it’s not.  People from my distant past maybe and fears about possible reoccurrences in the future in new people – but most of the time, it’s just current bouts of fear and uncertainty.

I’m scared you see.

I’ve given myself a time line, that if something hasn’t drastically changed in my life by April (and I don’t mean career wise, I mean on a personal level), then I think I am likely to do something stupid.

Because I’ve had enough of not getting any sort of comfort, love, security, health, warmth and happiness.

With this to be considered first things first – I will reluctantly try and get into the lifestyle again around the end of March to test the water and see what’s available for a forty year old – not much I know, a submissive should be between 21 and 30 by most master standards, especially if they want to have a family, like I do.  I may extend my deadline to the end of May, depends.

But generally in my past, when I’ve been on those sites I’ve found someone and moved in with them in less than a month – I’ve always moved fast in relationships, I am impulsive like that!  But I have to consider I am fourteen years older than I was the last time I was on there and overweight, with a tooth missing and no professional qualifications or good health to inspire a new master to take me on.

Especially not in the roles I was used to at the time – I was a consensual slave, not a submissive – a vast difference and I was always involved in what they call a princess slave role, an alpha slave girl of a poly household – this meant I was trained to keep other girls in line, because I can switch.

Thing is, it’s difficult if there are masters who switch too, because I find it difficult domming a master who I love and respect, in a humiliating way.  In a passive way, fine, like letting them suck my toes and worship my body etc. – but the whole spitting on them and that I can’t do – because I respect them too much!

I also had daddy dominants, I am very playful by my very nature and never really grew up – but I am not infantilised if you understand me?  But I can roleplay really well!

I was also a kitten girl for a time too, but that’s pretty boring as you are animalised and aren’t expected to be human.  I liked reading books and the master I had back then found it amusing I wanted to read, and relented occasionally to giving me books to read inside my cage.  Yes I had a cage.  I was a part time live out kitten girl. 

Boring for someone who thrives on chores, cooking, cleaning, shopping, ironing etc. -I am very domestic! 

I don’t do well in vanilla (normal) relationships because my partners get annoyed at me constantly asking their opinions on things – which dress should I wear today?  What should I eat?  What should I do today?  I am perfectly happy to hand that level of control over to a person – depending on how healthy it is and safe Etc. 

I was very sought after before I moved in with Paul because I hadn’t very many limits and I am a pain slut, as they call them, women who find pleasure with certain types of pain.  Most of my limits were due to medical reasons, or squeamishness that resorted to play not being very fun!  Or anything that triggered my PTSD, such as humiliation – that’s a hard limit!  I’m a praise worth, I function better with praise, attention and tenderness.

Around the right people my confidence can bloom or crash, depends on them and depends on circumstances, with the right people I feel as though I can do anything and I can become a bit of a daredevil if I feel, safe, loved and protected!

I don’t like masters who like breaking people down to rebuild them, I like the kind that wants the best from a charge and always thinks the best for their charge, the kind that see their good girls as precious and when they are bad they will know it!

If I am lucky to find someone before May, I’ll live – but my blog may be closed, depends on the master.  I surrender completely to the right ones.

If not, I can’t guarantee I’d want to carry on to be honest.

I am getting older; all I want is love, a family, a purpose.  As I said I am never motivated for myself and there is no incentive to stay here, I am not needed here with Paul.

But it’s scary because a new master could do anything and I will tolerate a lot until I think things are too unsafe.  I really don’t want to come back to Paul again, but he is my safety net – he’s promised.

I was sought after for another reason too – I don’t need micromanaging like most!  I have a brain, I use it and I have been trained to determine what the master wants, because I pay attention!  I ask a lot of questions, which isn’t always ideal for most – but the good ones appreciate it, because they know I am trying to make an effort to understand them and adjust for them.

Another of my limits is, I won’t submit to women – absolutely not!  They can submit to me however, but never try to make me less than the best female in the room!

I have a jealous heart and I like being smug and precious.

So shoot me, guilt trip me, do whatever you want – but I am proud to be me!

I know you will miss me if I find someone who doesn’t like me blogging and I know the world will lose what you call “a talent”, but hopefully I will be happier.

Who knows?

There are a lot of bad masters out there, I know…

Just felt I needed to explain myself is all!

This is why I like men with big egos, smart, social, virile and sarcastic – pure heaven if they are into the lifestyle and have a knack for motivating others in a positive, robust and fun and patient kind of way!

Thanks for reading! 

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Who are you racer?

It’s not that far to go

Before you touch your dreams

Just one more little step to take

It’s shorter than it seems

Don’t be silly and give up now

Don’t you dare throw in the towel!

How do you know that it’s all wrong?

Did you complete a whole furlong?

Did you give up in your chase?

Are you sitting down in a race?

Maybe you do need to rest

But continue soon in your quest

Don’t let fear master you

Don’t forget – who are you?

I don’t believe that persons lie

I don’t think you’ll give up and cry

I know you are strong and they are wrong

So why aren’t you listening to this song?

There is no rejection here for you

Just go on and ask…

Who are you?

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Being an authentic author

Great literature comes from the heart.  A great writer put their heart, their soul and their experience onto the paper.  They write what they love and are passionate about and they ensure to put as much emotion into their piece as they could possibly muster!

People want to read amazing literature, people want to write it too; but some people seem to think that they can’t trust themselves, their passions, their ideas because they have a low self-esteem and value for what they believe they are worth – so these sorts of people tend to be what I call “the idea stealers” and then they wonder why they aren’t as successful as Joe Blogs down the road and to me it’s purely a matter of just being you.  You weren’t being genuinely yourself when you are writing and that’s why you aren’t as good as someone who has their own path, their own ideas and put their heartfelt passions into a word format, like a book.

You’d be surprised at how many people would read a book about a character that is passionate about stamp collecting, if the author has the same passion – because the spirit of the author leaks onto the page and makes it feel genuine and fresh regardless of the subject matters general popularity in society.

I’ve read books with such a boring synopsis but were riveting reads, because I believe the author had done that – put their spirit into the pages of that book, by being themselves!  After researching the authors I find out that they do have similar lives to their characters and that’s why they are a success – even fantasy authors, though magic isn’t real, the power of belief and imagination is so strong in them as a person, they can trick you into believe it is!

Trend chasers do not tend to be very successful authors or at least not authors with readership longevity.

Don’t chase trends, don’t think that one author is doing really well on her blog or her sales that you must try and copy the frame of her work as your own in order to succeed as you think that’s a trend – you are not harming that other author, but you are harming yourself and your authenticity.  If there is nothing more that can sell better than talent it is a person’s authenticity – their brand. 

You being your authentic self is your brand.  Can you really keep up the pretence for the rest of your life that you love fairy romances when you by your very nature is a conservative person who doesn’t believe in magic and dreams coming true and love at first sight?

There is a time when it will become a grind for you and your mental health will suffer.  I have seen this happens to many authors over the time I’ve been online and befriended a few.

They tend to crash and burn out and give up.

The catalyst is usually the time when they choose a prompt and they are led by that prompt and the stealing of multiple ideas of other authors which reflect similar subjects of the prompt.  This is a thing, I’ve seen it time and time again and I actually have friends who are the writers of these prompts and they’ve cheekily used some of my ideas in their prompts to prompt other writers to write.

This has caused a surge over the years of certain subjects swamping the publishing industry with the same old subject and similar storylines, which gets old for author agents very quickly and it is why many book trends come and go erratically fast!

Trend chasers exhaust the idea pot because they are frightened of their own authenticity.

They feel that others will judge them as harshly as they judge themselves and that is not the case at all.

I am not sitting here being all high and mighty, I have succumb to this kind of pressure myself and I have sat down and seen the industry exhausted by vampires, so I have chased the other trends, witches or werewolves or demons and I wasn’t as happy as I was when I was writing my vampires and it is clearly seen in my works.

The heart isn’t there.

So where is my heart?

Where is my authentic self?

That’s another post…

For now, I want you to ask yourself the same question.

Thanks for reading!

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My quiet dad

Today I am going to talk more about my dad.

My dad has hardly had much of a look in regarding my past, but I thought I should share some things about him, because he wasn’t part of the problem when I was growing up – he was like a cushion to the blow I could have had – if that makes sense at all?

My dad was always fighting to get me better things, to get me better socialised, to get me better educated and he was almost always ignored – but my dad did have some small victories now and again in regards to having choices about what happened to his child.

My mum made no secret about why she married my father; she let it be known to both him and I that she married him purely to keep her boys safe in case she died, because she had a health scare about a year before I was born.

Her arrangement was, I shall marry you Tom if you ensure that you will raise my boys as your own if anything happens to me!  He agreed and he would have done so too, however my dad said he was sad he would never have children of his own and he sulked about it for a time – my mum was terrified in having another child because the child she had before me was a breach of which she was more or less forcing herself to have naturally and she suffered for three days in labour until she relented to have a caesarean.

However, she told me she felt sorry for my dad and said that she would give him only one child to seal the deal and he was happy with that!

So I was born before they got married, they married in the January after my birth. 

My dad was a sheet metal worker shortly after this and remained in that job until I was seven years old. Then stuck to his next job until retirement, pun intended a glue factory foreman – where I got my first job as a labeller at the age of 15.

Before he married my mum he was a chicken farmer and a train driver before he went into the army to get a HGV license, but he stayed in the army longer than he had planned.  There is a family rumour that my mum broke my dad’s leg deliberately to prevent him attending his duties in the Falklands, but it was never proven.

My dad was a quiet man, who hardly spoke about himself and so I don’t know much about him in his own words, only the rumours from other relatives who knew him.  He kept himself to himself and often shut himself away to play on consoles in other rooms away from family.

Sometimes dad would cook, but mostly I cooked for the family when mum was on nightshifts from the age of 7yrs onwards, dad was a less fussy eater than mum and would be more adventurous in the food he ate – he would have been a healthier person if mum wasn’t so dominant about the kinds of food she bought.  He had very little say on what happened to the money he bought into the family and he only ever had £25 a week to himself for betting on horses only.  She didn’t like him buy what she called junk to fill the house up with, because my dad was a bit of a retro head.

My dad always wanted to be an entertainer like his sisters, always wanted to do stand-up comedy and play the harmonica in public and create his own funny songs.  He liked making people laugh, but mum told he she wouldn’t let him do that as a side hobby, because he embarrasses her and it’s not fair to her that he should do that!

Mum was always telling him she was embarrassed by him and he just took it on the chin and obeyed, he tolerated it because he loved her.

My dad was a Tommy Cooper lookalike and he had his style of humour and my dad often imitated him a lot at family parties and weddings – in fact he looked so much like him and could remember all his jokes that his sisters tried heavens hard for years to make him be a lookalike act at special events where they honoured Tommy Cooper after he died – but mum simply wouldn’t allow it!

My dad would have been very successful doing that!  Especially as my dad could also do the special magic tricks that Tommy Cooper could too!  My dad was a bit of a magician!

My dad taught me how to act too; he would often play and relive our favourite movies together.  As a child I knew the lines to almost every Laurel and Hardy movie there was, because we played it together the most and also Blackbeard the pirate!  We also liked Norman Wisdom movies, Carry on movies and George Formby!

I don’t remember too much nowadays as it’s been almost twenty years since I saw a Laurel and Hardy movie last, but I do have recollections now and again.

But my dad and I were definitely entertainers for the family at family events, which is why mum started to refuse a lot of the invitations from the age of ten onwards – because we were both embarrassing her, my dad for simply being who he is and me being a fat funny girl who was too highly influenced in naughty humour bought about by my love for the Carry on team and comedians such as Frankie Howard and Julian Clary.

I like saucy and naughty humour, naughty is nice!

My dad paid for a while for me to have singing lessons (opera to be specific) but mum put a stop to it when they decided I had talent and needed to go to talent contests etc. around the country.  Plus she hated the idea of the amount of money she had to lose in order to hone my skills.  When I lost the singing lessons dad fought heavens hard to get me tutored in playing the piano, because of my addiction to my grandmother’s piano whenever we visited!

My dad would not compromise on one thing in his life and that was visiting his side of the family, something my mother really loathed bout him.  She hated every Sunday, because that would be the chosen day each week my dad would take me visiting his side of the family!

She rarely went with us because most of the family were outside of her 3 mile limit and the anxiety of travelling was just too much for her!  My gran lived 25 miles away in Bedfordshire.

Other relatives lived in Berkshire, Luton, Cheshire, Wales, Southend and Canvey Island or West London, far too far for my mum – so she stayed at home most of the time.

My dad and I would often go rowing in the lake at Alexander Palace in the summer with my cousins and have a large picnic, mum hated us doing that because she didn’t like my cousins being called cousins – as despite my mum having a mixed religious and mixed race background herself (third generation), she hated the concept of me calling my mixed race cousins, cousin and was quite racist about it, to the extent my aunt who is very passive was pinned up against the wall by my mother and threatened simply because she felt that she was putting ideas into my head that were against her own!

My dad never tried to control my mum behaviour, never tried to apologise for it or make any comment or even seemed to notice it – sometimes he would sigh and look downwards and wait for her to finish so we can all quietly leave again and hear the rants in the car about how victimised my mother felt for her own actions!

My dad was bullied by my mum and sometimes that did include physically being bullied too, though he’ll deny it, because he loves her.  But I remember lots of times where my mum has slapped him, kicked him, pushed him out of the way, called him names and dragged him physically off somewhere!

I do believe that domestic violence can affect both genders; I have witnessed it growing up!

Whenever my dad was pushed to the limits and he would rarely stand up for himself and say something, mum always won because she would say she is going to leave him right then and there and would often storm out of the house and stay with her friends for the night to try and scare him back into submission.  I remember those times, she would come back in the house with a smile on her face and carry on like nothing happened and dad would be thankful she is back, but she would pretend she wouldn’t know what he was on about!

Even when someone proved to dad my mum was having an affair with a bouncer at a nightclub my dad’s reaction was a shrug and well she comes home to me doesn’t she?  He wouldn’t challenge her on it.

My dad was submissive and unassuming and incredibly patient.

I often questioned his reactions and said you are not often happy dad, why stay?  He would make all kinds of excuses, but the one that stood out the most was hearing at the age of nine your dad confessing that if your mother did die of her heart troubles, you’d lose two parents at once, because he told me at the tender age of nine he’d commit suicide if she died.  Which shocked me, because he promised my mum he’d look after her sons if she did!  His reply is, they are adults now Tina, done my bit.  I said to him, well what about me?  I was shocked and hurt to hear him reply, the deal didn’t say anything about me!

I told him, I am your daughter, and surely you’d think about me wouldn’t you? What would happen to me then dad? 

He said I would be alright with my gran!

It was a scary time for me, because this was the time mum left for two weeks to go on  holiday in Great Yarmouth with her sister and friends because of another argument, one of which my dad tried to prepare me to pack to go and live with gran with him.  So suicide was lurking around the house for too long, mum came back, no smiles this time and she was asking if he had packed yet and he said no, but Tina has – then that’s when mum sent me off again to another aunt for a while and the whole time I was scared dad would be dead!

Other than gardening and playing darts with me from time to time, there isn’t really much else to say about my dad, other than his addiction to horse racing and online casinos.

He is a teetotaller, a good honest man who works hard and got obese living with my mum on the diet she provided him and he has very little self-esteem.

He is funny, a good entertainer, but she knocked him off his pedestal as much as she did me.

That’s all there is really to my dad.

He tried hard to get me into clubs and learn things – singing lessons, music lessons, pushing me in my sports, but mum always stopped us.

Dad always wanted to take me on holidays, but mum didn’t like it, didn’t like travelling unless she was with her sister and so we never had a family holiday together ever!  Not once.

I had no birthday parties after the age of 7yrs, nothing special for my landmark birthdays and that hurts when you see your mother go all out on landmark birthdays for your brothers, 16, 18 and 21.  It was always made clear to me, I was not important, I was not really supposed to be part of her family and so I don’t get those things!

That was my life, she lives for her boys, I got the scraps.

My dad never hit me unless he was bullied by her, she would literally lay into him to force him – but outside of her, he never laid a finger on me, even when he was at his most angry! 

Thanks for reading!

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