Send us a text A sealed box can hold more than paper, it can hold years of fear, vigilance, and the version of you who survived. I found mine after thirteen years and chose a simple, sacred ritual: burn what no longer serves. As the pages curled, something else unbound, resentment, confusion, even the quiet hope that proof could keep me safe. What rose in the smoke was space: space for peace, honest love, and a life that matches who I’ve become. We walk through that moment with care, unpacki...
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