When I finally returned to myself, I cried.
Not soft tears.
The kind that come when you realize how long you’ve been carrying something alone.
I cried because I saw how much I had neglected myself.
How often I beat myself up for allowing things to go on as long as they did.
I blamed myself for staying.
For enduring.
For convincing myself that this level of pain was something I could just live with.
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