This time last year…

This time last year I was coming to the end of eleven days of drinking milk, had written letters to all my loved ones and was back in the shire with my parents all too scared to really talk about what was about to happen. I knew though that I was making the right choice, the only choice really and that never wavered. I knew that whatever happened, whether I lived or not, it was the only course of action I could take. I simply couldn’t carry on as I was.

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