And now my heart is breaking. Breaking open and in and up and down, breaking with renewal and death, separation and introduction, breaking with the intense pain of growing. I am growing, growing, growing, and the pain of shedding this skin I’ve clutched around me for so long is downreaching and fathomless.
I’m raw. I’ve lost the exoskeleton, but what’s left is me. Vulnerable, strong, sorrowful, happy, certain, fragile, afraid, confident, and maybe almost able to look at myself in the mirror and not look away.
This sadness cloaks me heavily. Fog clouds smudged in slick, smothering layers around mountain peaks, chilly and clammy. Not fit for breathing.
This is so hard. This living is so hard.
