The Stream Flows…

“It was a bright cold day in April, and the clocks were striking thirteen.” – Orwell

The process is a monotonous one, but I can feel my world expanding again, the holes slowly filling.

I have no idea why you reached out to me… again.  I don’t need congratulations, I don’t need words of encouragement from you, not now.  Thanks, but I got this.  I’m focusing on me, just as I should be and there’s no closure you could offer that I require…I’m struggling to find something to be proud of again.  You serve as a reminder of only shame…

I’ve come to believe that my heart never breaks.  My heart exists always in many pieces, when two of those pieces meet, the attraction is absolute, consuming and immediate.  When they part ways again the sense of loss is equally pervasive and severe…

There is never a moment of breaking, as I don’t believe there is, or has ever been, a moment where it’s been whole…

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