Is it cruelty or the truth that turns simple words into blades? This is Lost God three
Sticks and stones can break my phone but words can never hurt me. Unless, that is, I am worn down by months of bickering when words are like razor blades you use to self harm.
I have a file on my desktop called Lost God, into it, piece by piece, slowly, I am adding the incremental parts of a journey out of an ordinary hell into hope. I’ve put it behind the paywall because I don’t want to upset people and I don’t want to be arrested and I don’t want it to be read by casual passers by, colleagues or family.
It might be a little bit unpolished in parts, I’d love to hear what you think - even if what you think is, what a load of shite.
For the free subscribers, I’ve got a post coming tomorrow on the insanity of chasing free dopamine (there is no such thing btw, thirty five years of experience has taught me dopamine must be earned or it will clobber you about the ears as it retreats from your system).
(As ever, there will be the crispy tasty bits for my pals the paywall jumpers at the end)
Today is a below the jump day, though. See you, Kate x
Here is my third Lost God file
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