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The Thing About Writing

The time reads 3:53AM and I can hear the sprinklers outside as I’m writing this, and I have a feeling I’m going to hate myself in a few hours when the sun rises.

This Is The Art Of Letting Go

Even after unplugging and draining out most of the toxicity, I’m still left in a rippling puddle of bittersweet sadness, but I suppose that’s just life in general: you break, you heal, you grow.