Painting: The Awakening by Anato Finnstark
“Am I real?”
I laid in my twin bed in a room temporarily shared with my soul friend Gabriel, around this time last year, sobbing. This question rang inside of me as I wept uncontrollable, deep tears. I couldn’t track if it was a part of me and in that moment and the moments that followed, it really didn’t matter. I was crying and shedding layers of persona that came pouring off and out of me. Something was moving, though I wasn’t sure what.
It felt so strange to hold this question… it was a true, ‘wow, I feel so f*cked!’ kind of feeling. The ground that had been established for 29 years of my life, many years of spiritual seeking and emotional exploration, was suddenly in deep question. Who was I? Who AM I? Why did I suddenly feel as…
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