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Heavy.

I've been nursing a migraine since the morning, the side of my head splitting apart with pain. Now, it’s settled into a dull ache, but I still have to be present for auditions.

Sometimes, you push through even when you don't have the strength, giving when you have nothing left. You do it not out of obligation, but out of the goodness of your heart, without any sense of superiority. This kind of kindness is a strength.

I don’t mean to suggest abandoning self-preservation. But there’s something enviable in extending your hand and heart, even when you’re running on empty. A heart that forgives is strong, but so is a heart that chooses not to. Perhaps not everything should be forgiven.

It all depends on what you consider forgiveness. I’m thinking of lighter scenarios, I suppose. My mind isn’t ready to apply this to heavier situations. It would have to be forced.

Lately, I’ve built a routine of coming to my friend’s room to write my blog while she crochets or does something similar. Tonight, she lost her crochet hook and ended up cleaning her entire room before finding it hidden in a cover on her chair. 

Part of this routine involves us making food together, always at midnight, right after I finish my blog. There’s something comforting about these small rituals, especially when the world feels heavy.

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