It starts with a few cracks, some pops. Those shooting pains down your arms- don’t they feel like cords, tying you down? You want to run, but something inside compels you to stay.

Somewhere far in the distance, a voice is telling you to let go.

You don’t want to let go. You want to hold on, to fight it. You want to pretend it doesn’t exist. But it does- this pain exists, it is yours. These burdens are yours alone and it is you alone who will set them down.

And it hurts- I know. It hurts so much to let go, but once you start, you cannot stop it.

That stuff- it is so heavy. So fucking heavy, love. Just set it down now. Leave it all to the Universe. It is heavy and you are light, and you Are, light.

Those cords are tying you down. You cannot fly when you are tethered.

And every time you let something go, let it float off behind you- it hurts so badly. But after that you stretch out your arm and realise that those cords are holding you a little less. And that is something you can hold on to.

You can hold on to the truth, and to the joyful feeling that fills you when you think of the day you will finally fly.

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art of trauma
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