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I worked for it. I worked for it all. I honestly and wholeheartedly worked for it. I was given the opportunity but I worked for it. Not dull just sharp. I toiled with my hands, my mind, my blood, my sweat, my tears, my body. You wouldn’t know what it was like to work for it. Would you have survived? I did. Some others did too. After I, me, worked for it, you, selfishly decided that I stole it. You were the thief. Now that you hold it. You want me to forget the gold that I spun, the confidence in my smile and the reach of my polarity. It is me that worked. It is I of the idea. You mutter nothing of inclusivity when my toil was all that it was. I worked for it. Now give me the spoils of my labor.

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