before/after

If I were to write a novel about my life, I don’t know if it would be a very interesting read. I do however know for certain that my story could be split into two distinct sections:

Section one, titled Before I Met You

a life filled with picking at my skin in a room full of people because everyone was better than me, worry lines dancing across my face, cold coffee, feeling lost without a map to lead me home, sleeping my life away, and band aids unsuccessfully trying to hold together the fragments of my soul.

and

Section two, titled After I Met You

a life filled with brilliant clear skies, a kind of happiness that brings tears to your eyes, believing in magic again, laughter lines, confidence radiating like the sun, finally finding home, and the healing of my heart.

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