The 10th of November. The last time I journaled in 2022. The thing. I wrote about it. The thing that has been woven into my being for three years. The sadness that, when it descended, I thought would last a lifetime. Inside the sadness is regret, denial, grief, shame, bondage. And many other things. I wrote about the will to leave it behind, to walk out of its shadow. (Heavy, I know. One would think I never have any fun. I do, lots of it.)
the thing
the thing
the thing
The 10th of November. The last time I journaled in 2022. The thing. I wrote about it. The thing that has been woven into my being for three years. The sadness that, when it descended, I thought would last a lifetime. Inside the sadness is regret, denial, grief, shame, bondage. And many other things. I wrote about the will to leave it behind, to walk out of its shadow. (Heavy, I know. One would think I never have any fun. I do, lots of it.)