It’s quite a thing to be present for your own birth. To find yourself in a situation that, until that very place and time, was merely aspirational. To find yourself watching as if removed from your body. Only to find when you return that you’re no longer looking through the same eyes. Something has changed. Everything has changed.
This new me feels much like the old me. I ache and scream and love what I can’t have. A newly formed impossible mix of incredible black chaos and soft selfless peace.
Birth is traumatic but now that it’s been survived it’s time to focus on walking.
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