
It’s such a simple sentence that you almost overlook it. The kind of sentence that belongs in the corner of a page or whispered over coffee. Every person you meet has lived an entire life before that moment. It sounds obvious. It sounds like something your therapist might nod toward before sitting back in their chair. It sounds like something you’d find taped to a fridge in a halfway house or the caption under a stranger’s face in a yearbook you’re not supposed to be reading.
And yet.
It holds a kind of quiet gravity that grows heavier the longer you stare at it.
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