This is a "ramble" blog post, it's sort of like a public journal with less structured and more experimental (read: bad) writing. Don't take it too seriously.
Twinkling stars blinking in and out of existence.
The thought of the sound of space.
Weightless, floating, breathing in and out forever.
An alien hand reaches out, “It’s going to be OK” they said.
Time stopped, and I looked inward to find myself.
Forgiving yourself for mistakes made and ones you’ve yet to make.
The liminal space between your past and your present selves.
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