Crippling. Every time.

I can be twenty seven, moving and growing and loving, but it only takes a second to knock the wind out of me.

Eight years. Eight whole years, filled with a weird balance of love and loss, growth and re-growth. It can be eight whole years later, and I can still feel a little sting, a sharp pang of remorse. It’s why I went to California, it’s why I left Tennessee, it’s why (no matter how much I miss it) I can’t go back and be whole again.

Coldplay, it’s always Coldplay. That damn Scientist.

Okay, I have regained use of my legs. Time to continue walking.

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