...NYC.

I always believe it will get easier. Every year. Always. Up until yesterday I felt fine & I felt hopeful.

Today, not so fine.

Every year takes me out.

18 years later might as well be yesterday. Did & did not see that coming.

Holed (hold) up all day with my broken heart.

I told my own story ONCE here, years ago, maybe. It doesn’t really matter, though. So many stories.

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So many broken people. So many broken hearts.