showing up is a lot harder, a lot lot harder.
TW: this post contains mentions of death and suicide.
The endlessness of life, as in my previous article, is always constant. And newness, refresheness, comes as a result. Anyway, welcome to my new rant.
I’m reading a new book, The Wedding People. And the premise is interesting. Phoebe booked a hotel room simply to die. It bring a lot of emotions to the surface. And, when she failed. When her mission collapsed because of her love of endings, she wanted to watch the wedding party that was happening downstairs. Her love of not wanting to leave anything unfinished. That’s when she truly began living.
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