“we are here for each other”



essay by the brilliant sarah-louise jordan

I used to never be able to turn the light out. When I did, all that was left was the fire and the pain, and it was too terrifying to endure. The light at least was a reminder that regardless of what was happening to me, there was something left to reach for. There was a world beyond the blacksmith’s forge of my bones, waiting for me to be able to rejoin it. Even if I could only do so in the smallest of ways, like opening my eyes for long enough to see that the room was remarkably unchanged by the chaos. I had no energy to think about anything more than navigating the moments. Leaping from one to the next like they were stepping stones I must not fall off. I was so weak that the existence of the light felt like…

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