Here's a refined version that could be fitting for publication:
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I’m not an open book—yet perhaps a good listener. Maybe that’s why people find solace in me, why they confide in me, she thought.
While clearing the attic, she found “the book.” She knew exactly what lay within. With a careful hand, she opened it, revealing a dried rose pressed between the pages. In an instant, she slipped into another time, another world.
“It’s hard to be kind in this unfair, deceitful, and selfish world,” she whispered to herself. After having her heart broken and her soul scorched so many times, she realized it might be time to grow cold, practical, and emotionless. Yet, the purity in her heart could not be extinguished. There is always beauty in caring, in helping another, in making someone smile, or simply being there for them.
“My God knows what I’ve done, my God knows what I do,” she mused. Can I unchain myself, shed this heavy baggage, and return to my purest self? Can I emerge from the darkness and let my soul glimmer with hope once more?
Can I shower the world with my inherent warmth? I long for my soul to take over this scarred body. Can I hear my heart whisper that it’s alive again?
I’m unsure if I’m ready to emotionally invest, to be vulnerable, for fear that it will break me... yet again.
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