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Writing and playing music didn't lift my emotional pain all the way like a razor did. The Hardest Advice "Find someone to talk to," my counselor told hiv/aids me. Listening to that advice was the hardest of all. It had always been difficult for me to share my feelings, but now it felt like the people in my hiv/aids house were against me. My sister was too young to understand. My father avoided me altogether. We kept hiv/aids it civil, only saying, "Good morning," "Good afternoon" and "Good night." I didn't hate my father, but I really didn't like him, either. My mother and I were starting to have a close relationship again, but I didn't want to be a bother to her. She and my father were finally splitting up, and I felt selfish that my ordeal was happening at a time when she needed my support and I couldn't give it to her. I began to see stress taking a physical toll on her.
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