The silence echoes and I’m getting used to how you speak. May you never break this peace.

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Confined to bed

I had no choice but to be a prisoner to my thoughts. I was ill and I felt like my mind and body were unraveling, fast. For someone to have spent so much time stitching new threads to complete a bigger picture, it was utterly frustrating. The clock had unwound itself back to a time when I played in scraps and I found myself remodeling a version of me I thought had been gone for good.

I could not stand up to myself – emotionally or physically. When I decided to open my eyes, I was close, dangerously close to square one.

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Even the lights look dim when the night is so dark. They hold themselves up like frail breaths, whispering warmth to those who’ll look hard enough to notice.