Sunday September 4, 2022

None of us are perfect, but neither are we broken. Our chronic illness does not speak of who we are or how we got here. Every line and wrinkle has a story, each was earned and had a purpose. The grey of my hair glows as if it were a trophy. Following a Japanized tradition, I fill the broken cracks with gold. It lends beauty to what was broken and honors my attempt at mending it.


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