There will be a time in your life when someone will wrong you. They will tear you from the inside out, pull apart every bone from flesh until you are nothing but a raw shell. Empty. Instinct will be to resist, push , and struggle. To wrong them back; to expel hurt so that the crushing pain on the inside balances the pressure of the agony on the outside.
I’ve had my innocence stolen.
I’ve had my hope crushed.
I’ve had betrayal.
I’ve had my heart in shattered fragments.
I’ve had my entire world crumble under my feet.
I’ve let the poison in and sit in my bones while I tell myself “You’re Nothing.”
Bruises. Scars. Wounds. Internal and External. They are will always be a symbol of strength. Do not be afraid of something so beautiful that has marked your body of an experience that you’ve battled and defeated. Thank them, and thank the people and encounters that gave them to you.
The most gentle and freeing way to overcome, is to forgive. So unnatural to us, yet the only way to reach peace. We are human, and we will always be human, so as long as we continue to breathe in gravity and walk on all fours, we will continue to hurt others, we will continue to heal ourselves, we will continue to survive. Mercy will cut the strings that bind you to any ache that haunts you.
I forgive you, for my corruption has given me knowledge.
I forgive you, for my ambition is relentless.
I forgive you, for I have learned to become the most loyal friend I know.
I forgive you, for now I have learned what love really is.
I forgive you, because I now know how to stand on my own two feet.
I forgive you, because you have become the strongest and most beautiful soul I have known."
"He’s dancing to our song, the sand colored hair shaking violently, and when his ocean-blue eyes look up to meet mine, I am soaring. He’s laughing under the covers at my stupid jokes and calling me beautiful under layers of moon-colored skin that I always want to touch. He’s pressing up against me with big, soft hands and telling me I’m beautiful. I’m beautiful. He lives in a world of mathematics, pages of code, multi-colored strokes of the universe and in the bizarre tones of melody. He’s staying up late because he doesn’t want to wake up. He’s staying up late to hold steaming cups of tea and to kiss me. All I know is that I will always love him. He’s biting his lip, the lips I long to taste. He’s wearing a plain hooded sweatshirt because he wants to appear ordinary. He is not ordinary, and that I am sure of. He is eating the pizza crust because I don’t. He could be nothing, but he is everything. Two hundred and six bones in the human body and I can feel him breathing in every one of them. I didn’t know what love was until he ate my tears and kissed away the ugliness that haunts me. I don’t know where he came from, or what he’s made of, and I swear by God, he is everything. He’s setting my heart on fire with every word; he’s filling my chest full of stars. He is literature, he is a painting, he is an old record; expensive champagne in a paper cup, undeveloped film, a dusty book. His eyes terrify me that someday I might lose them looking at me like they do. The soft, kind curves of his face make me feel like I’m a little girl again. He makes me feel not afraid; like I can do anything. I love him, all I know is that I Iove him, I’ll always love him. That I am certain."