The shape of things…
Hang out long enough in the fog, and sometimes your eyes get used to it. Edges appear, and the shape of things becomes clear. Maybe it’s not the same sad story I’ve told myself for so long. I’m seeing glimmers of hope and joy…
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Hang out long enough in the fog, and sometimes your eyes get used to it. Edges appear, and the shape of things becomes clear. Maybe it’s not the same sad story I’ve told myself for so long. I’m seeing glimmers of hope and joy…