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Writing always helped me cope.
When putting words in a piece of paper defined so much more of what I was feeling,than what I ever said or could’ve possibly said. I struggled to use my voice in any other way. It’s like the ink was screaming louder than my throat. It helped me heal in ways I didn’t think possible. A sense of relief that even if no one else was listening, I found who I am in a long-winded text. I saw myself grow in those sheets of paper. It put into sentences what I felt in the lowest and hig
May 28, 20241 min read
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