Personal

The things that make our lives are so tenuous, so unlikely, that we barely come into being, barely meet the people we’re meant to love, barely find our way in the woods, barely survive catastrophe everyday.

People seem to be walking out of my story. That was a recent development.

(Life update: A bipolar depression diagnosis isn’t very comforting. I’d also like to avoid repeating history at all costs. Hope is a verb with its sleeves rolled up.)

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