It’s been so long since you’ve been safe. It’s been so long since you’ve felt protected. It’s been so long since you’ve been home, truly home.

I see you. I feel you. Sometimes it feels like a dream or maybe a nightmare….its not. It’s real life. You’re real and still alive. I know most days it’s hard to survive. You ask yourself if the fight is even worth it, it’s been going on so long, sometimes it’s hard to believe it will ever end. The strength you carry keeps you moving, keeps you pushing and fighting when you’d rather bleed out. So many people watching and some have even had the courage to ask, how do you do it? How do you keep going? For so long you’ve resented the question. Simply because the answer is strength. While to many it’s admired, to you it feels like a curse.

You’re bleeding, you’re so wounded. You’re terrified of loss, terrified of love, terrified of disapproval and being rejected. You used to not care but you’re battered and bruised and there’s not a cell of you that doesn’t ache…you truly don’t care what most people think but right now you do, because there’s not a part of you they can touch that won’t cause you pain. You have no shields and all your walls have been broken. You are entirely unprotected, or so that’s how it feels. To say you feel vulnerable is a great understatement. The once independent, impenetrable, purposeful you is now a relic. You aren’t only tender and fragile, you’re still picking up the million pieces of your soul scattered across traumatic memories, while still trying to resemble a functioning human.

“…you’re still picking up the million pieces of your soul scattered across traumatic memories, while still trying to resemble a functioning human”

The ones that love you, they scare you the most. Their touch hurts as well but it hurts with a permanence. You know the finger prints of their tenderness will serve as scars if they are ever taken from you. Your fear is that you will be left without them but with the presence of their memory, a memory that haunts and comforts all at the same time. History shows you it can all be lost, every soul close to yours can disappear, in a moment, what is present becomes the past. Never to breathe beside you, never to build another memory, never to live another moment in your world.

The fear of loss almost destroys you every single day. You want so much to believe in hope that love can last, that souls can stay beside you, that home is still a promise—yet the suns rays seem tormenting and the darkness is a welcome comfort. Most days the mere thought of happy collides with the dark night of your soul, only to be consumed by the heaviness you experience but not before it’s brightness aggravates the pain in your heart. Blood and joy aren’t supposed to mix, and since you can’t seem to stop the bleeding the joy is momentary.

Your soul is so tired of bleeding. You’re so done defending yourself. But you know you can’t stop until the war is over.

“You can’t quit and you can’t lay down your sword.”

You can’t quit and you can’t lay down your sword. You resent the fight. You are starting to welcome the slashes as maybe it will lead you closer to reprieve, even if that reprieve is the end all. Hopelessness is becoming a constant friend.

You need to make it, you need to survive. For your world is not your own but theirs and they can’t. They can’t defend themselves. They can’t fight for themselves. They can’t but you can. In all your blood stains, in all the tears and the weakness that permeates your bones, you still can. You can still go on. You still have more breaths in you and your heartbeat though tired is still strong. You resent its beat but if you die, you know you’ll die fighting. They deserve that from at least one parent.

One day the war will end. The sun will set and rise to a day that isn’t torn and terrifying. You’ll rest. You’ll stand. You’ll believe in love again. You’ll live in the world you’ve built on the ground your bleeding for today. The crimson stained foundation will breed a whole new world that will be reality. And in this world you will be protected. You will be safe. You will be home.

Stay in the fight. Bleed until there’s nothing left, trust those watching to hold to hope when you can’t. Let every wound cut to the core, for when it’s healed your world will be anew.

Let it hurt. Let it bleed. But don’t quit. It will stop. And when it does, the world your dreams still hold deep inside will be a reality to be reckoned with.

What feels like death is creating destiny. What feels like heartache is reforming grace. What feels like gut wrenching loss is reminding you to love deeply, endlessly and relentlessly because every memory created can be your last.

What feels like death is creating destiny. What feels like heartache is reforming grace. What feels like gut wrenching loss is reminding you to love deeply, endlessly and relentlessly because every memory created can be your last.

Bleed because right now that’s what building your new reality is requiring of you.

And when your soul lays in the grave because you feel like you can’t go on. Breathe it in. Breathe in the death. Breathe in the fear. Breathe in the heartache and pain. Immerse yourself in it. Because you’re far too strong to become it. You’ll rise, you’ll break the power of the death you’re feeling and you’ll find life again. You’ll breakthrough the fear and trust again. You’ll rise through the heartache and pain and you’ll break the power of the tomb it’s created around you.

You’ll feel again. You’ll find happy. You’ll stand up from the grave, you’ll rise from the casket and reclaim the life you are owed. The wounds that cover your soul will be your prize because you broke the pain and didn’t become it.

You’ll feel again. You’ll find happy. You’ll stand up from the grave, you’ll rise from the casket and reclaim the life you are owed. The wounds that cover your soul will be your prize because you broke the pain and didn’t become it.

Feel the pain so you can break its power over you. Lay in the grave so you can become intimately acquainted with the enemy you’re defeating. Admire your bleeding because in all the slashes, they still couldn’t kill you.

Every day rise from the grave and get to tomorrow because someday tomorrow is going to be happy.

Someday the war will stop. And you’ll be home.

Someday. Promise me you’ll make it to “someday”.