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This year, as each day went by, my emotions left, one by one. As each heartbreak came. From one chapter to the next, now remains an empty shell. 3:30 AM. I ask my heart: Can she love again? Does she want to love again? I lift a silent prayer. She asks the Maker of this precious, fragile heart that seems lost: Is there hope for this life for me, God? A course of events that heals me and teaches me that Your grace never runs out. That Your love loves beyond my scars, beyond these mental and emotional barriers. Is it still possible for a scarred girl like me to find the answer to prayers she made a while back, when reality whispers she is all alone? A whisper back: Find Faith, child. Find Faith. Because your Father is here. And He is waiting for you.
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Dec 8, 2025
Dec 8, 2025 at 7:39 PM UTC
Tales of a forgotten writer: An empty shell
This year, as each day went by, my emotions left, one by one. As each heartbreak came. From one chapter to the next, now remains an empty shell. 3:30 AM. I ask my heart: Can she love again? Does she want to love again? I lift a silent prayer. She asks the Maker of this precious, fragile heart that seems lost: Is there hope for this life for me, God? A course of events that heals me and teaches me that Your grace never runs out. That Your love loves beyond my scars, beyond these mental and emotional barriers. Is it still possible for a scarred girl like me to find the answer to prayers she made a while back, when reality whispers she is all alone? A whisper back: Find Faith, child. Find Faith. Because your Father is here. And He is waiting for you.
These are still notes of a returning pen. I don't know whether I'm returning or just letting the need to document this journey move me.
Written by
F/Uganda
Dec 8, 2025
Dec 8, 2025 at 7:39 PM UTC
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