Wrizzit
For everything, down to the scribbles.
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I can't speak to everyone's pain. I can speak to mine. Holding onto it is a slow death. I can drown in it, yes. And once I pull myself to shore, I can revisit it. It can be a temple in the garden, even a lesson, but I cannot let it block my path. The road is too long. Half marathon this weekend. If you love me you'll send bananas. Banana-based prayers will do. ❤️
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