I feel as though I am a loaf of bread, torn into pieces and distributed between too many people. No-one knows what the whole loaf looks like; no-one has the whole picture.
I am losing track of who knows what, and how much detail, and I am starting to feel like my head might explode from trying to keep everything straight. Why can there be no single person that I can tell everything to. Like an anchor holding me steady – reminding me of the shape of my soul, my memory.
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