sometimes the best you can do is allow one inch of your heart to break, tiny piece at a time, slowly and intentionally, digesting how that feels without being totally engulfed by grief. you can sit with that each day. your history. until you’re really ready to finally write it, face it. the cities you left, the men you desperately loved, the drugs, the tangible things, the deaths, your first dog, the money you could never touch, your only brother, your childhood. the way your life has been seasoned by so much interminable loss.

you can face it all.

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