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Olive

I run my fingers through my hair, at least I tried, they got stuck halfway and instead got tangled in the sea of knots.

I look in the mirror, to normal people I would be unrecognisable. No one sees this side of me but me, the side with dark bags and weary expressions, the side with tear stained cheeks and suicidal thoughts. I force a smile, this is the side people want to see, the happy, carefree, bubbly side, the side that is merely an illusion, but people love illusions, that's why we love magicians.

No one knows Olive Scrymgeour, I barely know myself, and I hate it.

I hate myself.

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