when in doubt, share what's on your heart
reflections on the power of telling the truth
written on 25/12/2024; published unedited
everything I write feels ephemeral
timeless
as if we’re going to a place that time forgot
as if we’re writing from a place where time never existed
as if we are one
I write for us
naivety or hubris
who would I be without my self-hatred?
I remember revealing myself, and the way it felt like glass shards were cutting me from the inside out.
jagged, precise annihilation. the most exquisite pain.
I don’t love pain, but I love tenderness.
and I love transcendence.
and I love not being defined by shame.
and I love coming home to myself again.
I love the journey of coming home.
what if I could love the pain?
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