Sometimes, late at night, I sit on my porch and think about that moment at the wedding. The sting on my cheek is long gone, but the lesson remains.
I look in the mirror now, and I don’t see the woman who stood broken in that wedding hall, waiting for someone to defend her. I see someone stronger. Freer. Untouchable..
Because sometimes, the only way to win the game… is to stop playing.
I recently received a letter in the mail. It was handwritten, in Daniel’s script. No return address.
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