I’ll be gone by tomorrow, he says, and you do not understand how to explain the pit in your heart at the words. You weave yourself around your traumas, nestle within their safety and watch the years pass by while your wrists bleed. It wasn’t mean to be, but you do not know what you are without it.
You asked the universe for a challenge out of your control this year, and oh, how the universe delivered. You should feel rich that the Universe would grant you such a wish.
Break now. And when you grow back, grow back strong as as the entire wood.
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