What I am trying to tell you, I think, is that I have been the most myself in these moments of shame, drawn inexorably down into myself, everything in my body in alignment. What I am trying to tell you is that when you finally get your face into the dirt, it can feel like a relief. I know it wasn’t like that for you. Shame was another dress you tried on, discarded, lavish in your waste, a curiosity to be played at. It meant nothing to you. I didn’t understand that for a long time, but I know it now, here, in my little room by the sea where the truth comes to me in waves, as the pieces fall
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