Dear Mummy,
There is no rest for the wicked and I am exhausted.
The good kind.
I think I am finally learning to surrender
and make peace with what the universe has in store for me.
Maybe someday soon my wounded heart
and weakened will
will stitch right back up and mend again.
I’m slowly feeling it working.
Scar tissue tender, breaking. Stretching.
I suppose that is it.
I guess this is all.
Love you and talk soon,
Your eldest.
ps: just in case. Send me an envelope of twine, pinned with your blessing to wrap around my heaving heart. Binding.
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