Unweaving

…this is akin to dying for most…this unweaving, this I am no one, I am nothing…I am dead. The shear terror of this annihilation is written about as the dark night of the soul. Most can’t go there until life becomes so unbearable…when there is no where else to turn but inward.
There are a lot of distractions to keep us from becoming real. ❤bjb ❤

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