Will you be here still?

Truth:

I was angry for so long for what they did to me. I would have died to prove they never cared, I tried. Thankfully…someone cared enough to pull me from the street.

Tales:

I told everyone I was okay…for a long time. I didn’t think anyone wanted to hear me. No one ever did before. So I put my tears in a jar and locked it in my closet, only to find myself going back often. I’d open my heart, and my eyes would flood with stinging tears, full of toxin.

Tattered Nails:

I used to hang myself with nails much too rusty to stay put. They would break, and bend, and bring me back to the ground, crashing, flailing, screaming…crying. But I never bought new nails.

I would pick up those old rusty nails, pierce my hands and feet, stick them to the wall, and hope I would fall.

I was poison to myself. I didn’t want to get better. I was angry. I was hoping they would save me. They never even looked at me.

I am me now. I am truth now. I am unapologetically, brutally, painfully…truth. Tales turned around until they opposed their former self, they were no longer a hiding place to stay in. I tossed those old tattered nails into the water, watched them drown as they pleaded for me to save them…I would not. I am free from the sin I was spoon feeding my younger self. Hatred for life, turned into love far stronger than I ever imagined.

Please don’t hurt for me, I am finally whole. My life is just beginning. It took me too long to realize that I have the capacity to create my own soul. I can taint it…or I can paint it, into something brilliant, and bright, and shining. I can write it into something more than just words, and lies scribbled onto paper. I can draw myself to be exactly who I want to be…and god damn am I getting good at that.

Pain, lies, and lidocaine is all I ever thought I could see. Holy shit, how wrong could I actually be?!?

Forgive me. For every thing I ever did to you, I had not become who I was supposed to be…but I’m here now.

Forgive me. Please.

I’ve been good, I’ve been happy. I’m Sorry.

I’ve been figuring out who I am. I’m Sorry.

— I don’t really need to apologize anymore. —

Finally, I know who I am. I’ve seen myself without the mask. It’s Scary!

She’s seen it too. She says it’s me. She says she’s happy!

I didn’t think I would ever heal. I didn’t know it was because I wasn’t trying. Funny!

I lost my empathy a long time ago but-

She’s showing me where I left it, taking me through my memories so that I don’t repress it.

She’s wading with me through revisited hell, she’s touching the light and making it brighter, she’s showing me that life can be lighter…she is holding my life in her fingers, and I have never been keener. To let her. She is soft, she is supple, she is sweet.

She is mine, and I am undoubtedly hers.

—. I waited for death but he never came, life found me anyway, now I’ll never be the same.—

This is okay. I’m okay. I’ll be okay.

Thank you A

Sometimes I hear voices, some that aren't mine.

Sometimes I feel voiceless, little thoughts begin to shine.

Sometimes I see poisons, swimming around my mind.

Sometimes I make choices, that make me hard to find.

I desire more for me, but I just can't let loose.

I'm nothing, if not, war for me.

Dusty Hearts and Tattered Dreams