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Writer's pictureSam John

RED.

RED.


This street.

I remember every beat. Every moment of it.

I was lost in rage.


Everything was blurry.

And I pushed myself out into the street.

I couldn't sleep.


I didn't want to.

It reminded me of the reality of waking up the next day.

I couldn't tell you what helped me fall asleep that night.


4 years seems like not enough time.

Each day has been spent figuring out who I want to be.


And making just one choice.

Every day.

To be the best man I can be.


To free myself of the delusion of being better than someone else.

And rest in the fact that there is no one like me.

Trusting that nothing can keep me from what is meant for me except myself.


I remember the moment I could see again.

I was free.

And I didn't know it yet.

It isn't an easy freedom or one I take for granted.


It takes work.

And dedication. Consistency. And hope that makes no sense.

No one is stopping you. Take the step. Leap into the unknown.


Yours faithfully,

Qavah.


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