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The Isolation Journals: First Line
Last night I dreamed I went to Manderley again. Though by Manderley, I mean Mahooz: the last neighborhood I lived in before leaving Bahrain.
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If I could erase this year from existence
This is how I’m ending 2019: anxious, sleepless, irrational, a ghost of the girl who entered the decade. A lot of what happened this year was my doing, yet somehow none of it was my fault.
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Lion-hearted
I knew I’d want to check in and reflect on this day, every year, and pay attention to how quickly time flew, how unpredictable change arrived, and how fleeting all of it was.
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Ten Updated Notes To A Fragile-Hearted Girl
Darling, we did it: we are truth-tellers.
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A letter for the bad times, written on the slightly better times
It’s always a music box version of Bach: Cello Suite No. 1. It’s the biggest reason I don’t mind the alarms. The second is because I set these reminders surprisingly during the weekend of a mental health emergency.
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I’ll never be famous—and I don’t know if that’s okay.
An introspective response to an op-ed by Emily Esfahani Smith “You’ll never be famous — and that’s okay.”
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An apology for every lost day
Writing about the difficulty of writing again (ha!)
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Adjourn Days 1-5
Sharing my entries for the Adjourn daily journaling challenge.