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Oh how I love you

@understandingcomplexities

It's a colorful world, but maybe all we have is black markers and blue paint because all we remember are the bumps and bruises of our broken past.

It’s strange to think that long before I had a name or a heartbeat, I existed in some shadowed, elemental way. Women are born with all the eggs they'll ever have, and these begin forming while they're still in the womb. So when my mother was just a fetus, the egg that would become me was already inside her. That means my grandmother carried not just my mother, but the beginning of me as well. For a fleeting moment, the three of use shared one body, and went through life together, layered like nesting dolls.