Broken Records. A foreign phrase to many. They play the same song plus over and over and over... No end. Mind goes mad. Questions come: "really?" "not enough already?".

My silence, nothing but a desperate (futile) attempt to disappear. But I am found under the mud and grime. I am lifted. By unseen faces. Fed by vaguely familiar people who have done this before.

I must- no, I vow, to rise up again; to be well so that I may write your stories. Lift you from the mud. Wipe away all that dulls your shiny, sparkly self. I will receive the healing, stronger again. I promise to help lift you, carry you, shout from the plains until your story is finally heard.

I may be undone, but I am not done.

Do not let yourselves be dismayed.

Look up, where help comes frrip

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Yes, falling and rising, getting close to exit and turning back with full force - that's the spirit to aim for, to have and to pass on. Love!

Stella Paul Twitter: @stellasglobe