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This is my story. . .

I didn’t plan to write this here. 

But there are things I can’t say in full yet, and things I can’t keep holding onto in silence either. 

So this space is for what sits in between. 

Not the case. Not the headlines. Not the version of events people think they understand. 

This is about what comes after. 

What it’s like to be released but not free.
To rebuild in a place that isn’t home.
To navigate a life that’s been paused, fractured, and dropped somewhere unfamiliar. 

Some of this will be immediate. Some of it will take time to tell. 

And some of it… I’ll keep for myself, for now. 

If you’re here, just know this: 

Everything shared here is intentional.

Everything left unsaid is intentional too. 

If something you read here resonates with you, and you want to support me while I rebuild, you can do that below. 

With gratitude
~Annie

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This Isn’t My Story

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When I first got out, I didn’t just land in a new city. I landed in a place I didn’t choose. A halfway house. Not just any halfway house—one meant for people struggling with addiction. And I remember thinking, almost immediately, this isn’t even my story.I don’t have a history with drugs. I’m not in recovery….
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What Groundless Means

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I’ve been thinking about that word. Groundless. It wasn’t something I planned. I didn’t sit down and try to come up with a name for any of this. It just. . . fit. And the more I’ve sat with it, the more I’ve realized it holds everything I’ve been trying to explain without having the…
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