Process Finale: 11
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It’s 1am, I am in my bed, crying silently in the dark.
It’s cyclical, hormonal, always looming but always a surprise- I diminish it, now, as it happens. I consider removing the acknowledgement that it is currently happening. Trying to make it smaller full well knowing that it is large and persistent.
It is the furious ocean swallowing a boat, a stampeding freight train derailing. A plane that falls out of the sky so quickly and hits the ground so alarmingly fast. Shocking crashes into sadness.
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