* | WE WERE BORN TO DIE | *

Somehow you make it through the pain, you stitch yourself together, you survive.

I stretched out my hand to touch him once on the back of his neck. Please let me stay.

You sleep coiled; tightly wound. Hands are fists beneath pillows, clenched above cotton sheets. You are at war, even in your dreams.

“I would rather die standing up, than live life on my knees.”

I don’t want him to be in pain. I don’t want him to be in pain. If I could take all of it and store it within me, even if I should die, I want to do it - if only he’d be okay.

I’m gonna be just fine but that doesn’t mean I’m alright.

You cannot judge me for the ways I chose to deal with my pain.

I look young But inside I am old And filled with the deaths Of other people.

My heart feels so heavy and I don’t know how to carry it.

It is an act of bravery to feel your feelings.

I am not one person; I am many people; I do not altogether know who I am.

You are so brave and quiet I forget you are suffering.