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they happened so long ago. i thought i had stuffed them down, scrunched them like paper to a ball and thrown them far beyond my eyes could see. yet they're all of a sudden coming back… like a boomerang. all flooding back.

those pen-inked stains of my wrist when i wrote the date across the top right corner of my journal – when all i felt was a weak dullness in my heart and words became my comfort. there was a time when those heavy hearted dates were permeated across my forehead. they left their mark, and i thought that mark would never leave – always at the front of my mind. but they did. slowly but surely, those inked markings began to wear away. they no longer shrouded my thoughts or trampled my spirits. and yet today i see numbers. the numbers i thought i had erased and moved past from. they've come again. all flooding back

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slipping by | pt. 8

dear august —

i. our love for each other broke loose as we ventured into greater depths and allowed ourselves to look into into the heart of the other.

ii. he whines and drags his feet, sending her voice to rise and fall with increasing intensity, then snap. and there i sit, bending to accommodate, but whispers cloud my brain. missing out; disregarded; alone; not special anyway. turmoil boils within me. should i have gone? i will never know.

ii. anxiety rose and despair bubbled from within me. things that ought to have been were no longer there. and yet that thought pops up – practice faith instead of projecting with fear – and gives me peace of mind. when disappointments and stress abound, you were my comfort.

ii. she is upset with me. i did it out of love, but i feel she didn’t feel it in return. oh, to think that there will be a time when i will no longer be your mate as i have been all these years. let’s make these times count, dear. i’m sorry.

iii. living a love does life requires daily surrender and conscious effort. thanks for showing me how i need to make love an action verb and not just a state of being.

iii. i feel bleh now that my heart is stable. now i’m not okay with being okay. and life moves on…

v. in the midst of lows and discouragement, you gave me words to say. you put a song in my mouth. you planted seeds of truth that just kept on flowing. and it felt beautiful… and oh, so freeing to be a vessel of assurance. it was not i, but him. keep speaking truth…

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slipping by // pt. 4

dear april —

iii-vi. you’ve shown how sometimes the highest of highs foreshadows times of brokenness and weakness. moments that cloud my head with pain, that heave my chest with despair. you’ve shown how every death leads towards a resurrection. you gave me just enough strength to endure.

vii. thank you for wonderful conversations in the middle of the unknown. your marvelous hand was over it all, and it’s so beautiful to see. sometimes we just have to look back to see everything lead up to direction. it is in the things of the past that shape us and lead us into everything good and perfect of what’s ahead. and i think that this day might make it into the books of the glorious life ahead. because it sure was an amazing one. dare to dream. dare to pray. dare to believe. ❤

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running away

she went down to the basement, slammed the garage door behind her, and ran out of the house. something so rare (running out of the house is an unheard of happening in her family) yet something so needed in her soul. she ran and ran, and stopped. her heart beating, her cheeks cold, her chest heaving and panting. she stopped and breathed in the crispness of the wintry, nippy air. thoughts began to flood her mind as her heart felt free again, like a joyous bird out of its cage.

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