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consciousness is deeply traumatic, but is also the greatest gift given to us. the wound can either destroy you, or it can wake you up.
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For when you're alone, you're either or neither, I tell you again. Death or life or life and death. I gotta use words when I talk to you but if you understand them or if you don't, that's nothing to me and nothing to you. We all gotta do what we gotta do. (T.S. Eliot)
consciousness is deeply traumatic, but is also the greatest gift given to us. the wound can either destroy you, or it can wake you up.
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Are you preparing a face to meet the faces that you meet (with apologies to T.S.Eliot)?
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Feeling your pain. Stay strong.
What I didn't realize about grief till now is that the shit never runs dry... I can't unwrite you. You can't unfeel me. It can be something as mundane as the way the radiator enlivens with heat, the tint of a lightbulb glowing against my back, or the way the pan accepts an egg in the morning. Some things will always remind me of you. And as much as I'd rather they not cling to the memory of you, I'm grateful. But damn man... how is the memory of you more palpable than when you were here?
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