Love comes wearing many guises. Not all of them are pretty. In fact, many of them are not. Because love is forever calling out to us, “Can you see me? Are you willing to know me when I am disheveled and unkempt?
Grace finally comes. Not in a peaceful, quiet hush. But in the arms of panic attacks and the inability to pretend to have it together for one more fucking second. Who knew grace would show up like that?