FOR DAYS OF BREAKING When you were a child, someone you trusted taught you that breaking was a synonym for weakness. And because you were young enough to believe in everything you believed them. You believed that tragedies needed to be locked away inside your spirit. And that’s what happened, didn’t it? You learned how to build galaxies where your sadnesses became stars that glittered inside you, where wounds made up whole constellations. You quickly hid them where no one could see. No one told you that wounds fester. That which you leave unspoken only serves as a cage for your golden voice.
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