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I consider myself extremely lucky that I have not experienced shock from losing someone close. I’m deathly afraid of the experience, because I know who they will be. And I can’t help but freak out about the idea of shaking my vision of life like a snow globe. 
I understand them as theory, but the feelings are simply not there for many perspectives because the experience hasn’t happened.
I futilely say to myself, “no no no nothing has to change, I like the way I think right now, please leave me be. I don’t want to know what happens.”
One who acknowledged my presence in class taught me with great patience for six years with a smile near a piano. Mrs. Goldfarb never yelled or scolded at me, except for that one time. And I remember how it felt to be 9-10 years old and stand there in the gym with her when she asked why I was crying and told me that I was going to do great. I kept crying because I didn’t know what else to do when I hated myself. I still feel it when I’m trying to fall in love with what I do while failing at it. She sang to us and copied hand-written lyrics for the entire class. She asked me what I wanted to sing, and got music sheets to play it for me. NSYNC. Frank Sinatra. She let me shake my ass in a bikini top with pink socks all by myself to Christina Aguilera. 

I could use her simple gestures, her smile, and words of comfort right about now. 

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