There's no point, nothing to work towards any more.
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"I am strong, I am able, I spill milk on your table
Then I crawl like a baby, just to see if you save me
I am sweet, I am ugly, I am mean if you love me
I'll try hard just to please you, when I say I don't need you
I dress up with a conscience, when I think you'll be watching
I say all the right things, I don't know what I mean
When I pose in the mirror, I want everyone near me
I am scared that I'm weird, I'm afraid I am queer
I am strange when I'm kind, I am frying my mind
I'm a loser at love, I'm a flower in the mud."
Sheryl Crow, Am I Getting Through? (Part I)
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