I am my own
approval isn’t a prize; it’s capture
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Category: Wounded healer
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Because, illusion was all there was, painted over empty rooms that feigned their promises of a life inside
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It’s just a story It’s not who I am It used to the have power to make me believe that story was who I am. But I have forgiven And grieved And let go And now I begin with just me, before the story sidetracked me, and who I was meant to be all along
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silence is space, for breathing, for calm, for reflection. It’s absence is cluttered with noise that distracts from knowing what lies beneath, and drains the spirit. silence is time, is being, is renewal.