The Punch In The Gut

It’s been a relentless race against time, like I’m sprinting on this endless track between the towering skyscrapers of “making it” and the haunting abyss of losing my family. Every day, I peel my eyelids open and hit the ground running, grinding and hustling to lay brick by brick, word by word, the foundation of that epic moment I’ve conjured up in my mind – the moment when the universe would finally conspire in my favor, and I’d stand tall, arms outstretched, victorious for my tribe. I told you from the get-go, there are chambers of my heart I’m gonna keep locked away, sacred and secret. Well, this here, my friend, is one of those locked chambers. You’re peering into the hurricane of emotions that I’m wrestling with, after a conversation that felt like a cosmic punch to my gut, like I was standing in the path of a freight train, and it just whizzed by, leaving my world shaken, stirred, and spun all around. I’m grappling to pack my things, shoving clothes and memories into bags. Each item I wrap feels like a stark reminder that the world I’m living in, the walls that surround me, the roof above my head, they were never really mine. It’s like I’ve been a ghost, drifting through the care of those who’ve held me close, sheltering me in their embrace. The person I’ve molded into, the scars from those countless battles I’ve waged, they’ve been the backdrop of their unwavering support. I can see it in their eyes, the stories of my stumbles and fumbles etched in their gaze. There’s a part of me that’s fractured, splintered into a million fragments, and I can feel them piercing through my chest. It’s a symphony of sorrow, this relentless cycle of tears streaming down my face. But here’s the truth that’s etched into my bones: I’m not throwing in the towel. Not on the dreams that have been woven into my DNA. Not on the people who’ve held my heart when it felt like it was about to shatter. I will do what my daughter told me to do, and be brave.

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