From all the chaos I was reborn.
When the blood of a woman's
heart is something she no longer drowns herself in. When you realize every star
in the galaxy is just for you. When you no longer wear self-doubt and
loathing as your life vest. When life happens, life changes, and you become yourself.
The bittersweet, the bitter blue, where narrative is gone and all the chaos you
finally accept, and then, finally, break through. Well then, my friends, that is the definition of hope. The definition of hope becomes a powerful thing; when
your heart beats so fast you just know you have to run after it. You just know
finally, without any further hesitation, what you need to do. What you should have done, all along.
The heart
was no place to leave the blades piercing my soul, slicing my flesh, as the
resounding sound of madness echoed throughout my head. His footsteps
hardened in the distance. His betrayal left and then carried away with the
tide. I collected every sharp knife in the house, and threw each, individually,
into the sea. One knife, one blade, one life, as seaweed attached itself to my
lost hope, and the turning, of yet, another page. The salt from the ocean lay
like bitter tonic on my tongue, as sea salt spray washed over my face in
acknowledgment of all of my falling tears.
Small steps have seemed
to legitimize my journey, to my destination at whatever crossroads I now stand at. I have approached people I might never have
approached before, some remain, and some I've since let go of. There is
a sweet awkwardness to the moment you find a parachute for your feelings, and
then you take the leap.
My
next life, well, I am hoping it will be riddled with romance, conjecture, and a
life fitting of a princess. I still want to believe in fairytales...
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