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?

lily pads

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?