In the dim twilight of self-awareness, I stand at a precipice, gazing into the depths of my soul. For so long, I believed my spirit bore the scars of paternal neglect, yet now, a startling revelation dawns upon me, casting its light on a deeper, more profound affliction. The maternal figure, whom I dismissed with a cavalier wave, has left an indelible mark on my being. I once thought myself indifferent to the nurturing embrace of motherhood, but this was merely a guise, a protective veil woven by my subconscious. It was a charade, crafted to shield me from the stark reality of my yearning - the desire for care, for tenderness, which I adamantly denied. In this moment of clarity, I see the truth: beneath the veneer of independence and resilience, there lies a soul, aching for the maternal love it never knew it craved.
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