#battlecries

dear 2am reader with a half-written suicide note signed by dreams of permanent escape,  i've been where you are. which is not to say i understand. which is not to say—i'm sorry. so maybe a sunrise wouldn't be enough to save you; i think it wouldn't be enough for me either. the last time you felt joy is remembered, barely what with earthquakes cracking around your ears and you half-deaf to disaster. but i want to tell you this: don't break the promises you made to your best friend when you said you'd be there for them forever. one of these days, wrest an apology from your parents for the shit they've put you through; you deserve it. make sure your younger siblings get a chance to be all that you never were. try not to leave anyone behind. you won't run out of words; you'll only run out of time, so use what you have while you can. i'm sorry— which is to say, you have a lot left to live for. i hope you do. i hope you do. i hope you do.

q: how do you know you're getting better? a: it doesn't matter.   because let's be real—recovery is a fight and the odds are stacked against you and even when you're winning it sure as hell doesn't feel like it and you're never really done. and sometimes recovery feels like a loosely dangled promise and the road to your peace of mind is paved with mistakes and regrets and it's true the pain fades over time but only to be replaced with new ones and your heart is too big for all these battle scars you only have hope sometimes, and you're always tired and you're always losing ground, but it doesn't. fucking. matter. because YOU. ARE. WORTH. FIGHTING FOR— and recovery is keeping this promise to yourself, the only thing you owe to the only one.

history says we've come so far, but the truth is we're still out there wishing for wishes, crowding into castles, claiming crowns, molding ourselves to fit story spaces laid out for us and those after us. maybe things have different names now, but you still think palace when you see mansion, still bet on shooting stars and beginner's luck, still hope you get to be the prince dazzling the room, the princess returning to glory. i want you to know: it's okay to take those paths; it's okay to want a happily ever after, just— don't discard the nobility coursing through your veins after that one night. keep it close, keep it burning, keep it for a rainy afternoon, or a realization that you are worth it, every day.

we were always more like a light show, anyways— more like a shot in the dark that went awry. it’s funny because you always expect things will get better. it's funny because sometimes they really do. i never ask you why you leave; you never ask me where i go when i'm not all there. (the secret is: i am too there, i am too present, i am too achingly aware of us and the space between us. one void i cannot fill with words.) maybe we just needed someone for after the end of the world. someone who looks at destruction and says yes, we can rebuild ourselves from this.

Redwall Battlecries Masterpost.