I wear the scars of another year on me, another year of praying to ceiling tiles, praying that this heart can be made into something that hurts less, I don’t know why everything feels like tidal waves crashing and chandeliers falling, another year of this floaty postmortem feeling, like skies are tessellating into diamonds and stars are ringing in my ears, but it’s been another 365 days of aching, and it’s been beautiful, the ball will drop, fireworks will go off, and you will shake, don’t be afraid, it’s just our bodies way of telling us something, it’s telling us that we’ve made it.

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