This season presses on me like thin air, difficult to breathe and even more difficult to feel what is in the depth of my heart. It aches for what is real, abundant and full of new, green leaves made for healing and a taste of the goodness that I know I should be able to see. Each hour brings me closer to backing into a corner, to realizing the people I trust most are not there for me now. The tools I had are gone, and the wants and needs are being burned up in the time of pruning.
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