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Today I am allowing myself to sit with melancholy. It weaves the strings of the past. Attaching to old wounds that can be so hard to let go. Rejection holds the thread of origin. This umbilical cord that was supposed to feed love and only love. I know where it begins. I know its hold. I know its constriction. The cutting off of life. Of the throat that seeks air. Patterns like to repeat until they are healed.
A voice inside me speaks, It only matters how you feel and perceive. What you choose to give to yourself. What you choose to hold onto.
The laws of attraction show us that what we give out we get back. So I turn inward to the origins of doubt. Allowing the question to rise about why I hold on so tightly for fear of letting go… because when I…
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