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To my younger self

Dear sweet young girl,

I know you are confused.

I know you feel terrible all the time.

You are being protected from the truth, my dear one.

I want you to know.

It won’t always feel so bad.

Though it will get worse before it ever improves.

You were given a box.

Assigned it at birth.

And told to make yourself fit.

How silly to think that you could ever fit into a cube and live.

The pain of not fitting.

In this box of yours.

Is an ache of grief so deep that you would die to have it end.

And that was their goal.

You are an inter-dimensional being, my love.

Of course you could never fit into a 3D cube.

But you tried.

And tried.

And tried.

The void inside grew.

And grew.

And grew.

This is the pound of flesh that you pay.

In order to gain strength.

To know that the well within you would never run dry.

And in the end the only one there was me.


You are breaking the cycles.

It’s beautiful to see.

And equally hard to watch.

We do break through.

The suffering does end.

You will know true love, true compassion, true care.

You will be seen and you will show up.

And then you get to live.

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