The Memoirist
Published in

The Memoirist

To Heal, I Had to Let Loneliness In

We can only pretend for so long

Photo by Zulian Firmansyah on Unsplash

Heavy.

Two-bedroom, basement apartment in a building where I knew he wouldn’t find me. He never liked the city, but I did. Safe because the street signs here were blue instead of green; safe because the gunshots meant that he wouldn’t even think about coming here to look for me. He was afraid of the city bus.

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Hope Rising

Hope Rising

Divorced, biracial woman | 23 going on 65 | Editor for Out of the Woods | I write to heal myself and others | Support me at https://ko-fi.com/aashaanna