There is something funny about the way things slowly resolve themselves.

You don't know it in the moment, those sad, lonely moments when you're crying in the kitchen at 2 am because your anxiety is eating you alive and you can't sleep.

But things do have a way of turning out better every time.

You just have to give in your energy.

You just have to keep trying, even when things don't feel ready.

Push open the door even when you don't want to welcome in anything.

Beer in hand

I walked down the steps

And I realized

With a big smile

My old self would be proud of me

now.

You look over at her, she's wearing her hair down, sitting on the bar stool next to you in a white tank top and staring at her tea like it wronged her. She made a face after taking a sip and lets you try it.

You secretly love it when she lets you take a sip of her drinks.

To you it tastes fine, but you make a face anyways to show mutual support.

She's wearing eyeliner again, just the wings, and for some reason it looks amazing on her...

I peer over the top of my book.

Suddenly I am standing again,

walking over to the window sill

where I leave my phone.

I check my phone again to see

his message on the screen.

The tiniest box, the largest

interruption.

Why can't I focus on reading

right now?

I will take your hand

and maybe it will be rough

and maybe it has dirt on it

and maybe the fingers aren't the prettiest

but I know this hand has held the darkest moments

I know it has thrown rocks for self protection against

bombs

I know it has been stabbed when it has reached out to be shaken

I will take this hand

and I will hold it

because even after all it has been through,

I know it will still hold back.

Even from a long ways away,

you have a hold on me,

its magical to think about

until I think about who might

have been with you, in your bed

and I feel sad for the both of us,

that girl and I,

we will always be fighting each other

and will never know it.

There is something in me that is troubling.

Something that hasn't always been there.

It's strong enough to be hate, and fragile enough

to be my self esteem.

It's not like me to like the dark but I am comfortable here.

I don't want to be.

I want to fight it, I want to find a way to move,

get up, pull back the curtains, go outside, talk to someone.

But how can I talk to someone when I feel like everyone is

just waiting for the perfect opportunity to use me?

To stab me in the back when I least expect it?

How can I let anyone in after that.

It's lonely here but I know I am in company with myself,

and I trust her.

I think she is strong enough to bring me back without help.

I know you didn't like it.

When he came home late, smelling like alcohol.

When he loved you one second and wanted you gone the next.

I know it made you feel unlovable.

I know at one point in time, you trusted him.

You stayed by his side, you were there when he wasn't his best.

You were there for the times he got good news at work.

You stayed because you so blindly believed that nothing could

end it.

He put you through sleepless nights, nights where you curled up in

bed and felt like giving up on yourself.

He knew no matter what he did to you, you would be right there when

he asked you to be.

I know why you stayed and I don't blame you.

In the future, there will be more people you will meet like him.

You meet them and suddenly you feel like you've found your person.

It feels like that because it was made to. The familiarity, the comfort,

the I'm-not-going-anywhere.

I want you to avoid those people.

Avoid those people that give you nicknames, that give you a candle lit bath on a random Tuesday, that call you during their break at lunch. Avoid those people that

take you on fancy dates and eat a bunch of food with you in bed at 2 am and pick you up and carry you to bed. I want you to avoid those people that do those nice things. I want you to avoid making those great memories with them.

Because I know that you hate those things now.

And I know that you used to love them.

You did.

it took me a long time to realize

that its not bad to wake up at 11 am

or to be in a mood when you're feeling annoyed

or to stay in your room all day, if thats what you need.

i was living my life based on the voices in my head

your voice, specifically.

"you might need someone as your personal assistant"

"....they could serve as your executive function"

"someone who could help you make it to these appointments you keep missing"

oh, so someone like you?

i have a mental illness and you don't realize that because of that you have always treated me like i am five years old

thats why i dont trust myself, why im shy when i talk

my confidence i kept in your responsibility and since you take it and rip it up every time, i am left to collect the pieces as they come falling to make what little of an identity i have left

and its an endless loop, as long as i listen to you i will believe i am limited

but i am proud to say i am learning

to cover my ears

She knows that she's tough, and I think

thats what scares her.

What she had to go through to be that

strong. Maybe she felt ashamed for the

way she reached that point, the fact that

behind all of her grit was an ugly trail of

dark rooms, harsh words and people who

treated her badly. But then again, maybe

it was how she held herself now, why was

she still slumped over if she was proud of

how far she had come? Was it fear, or not

wanting to accept all the progress she'd made?

Why the hell was she stalling? Does it not feel

like the right time to celebrate? Does she not

feel like she earned it? Or was it that everytime

she felt the tiniest bit of happiness, she came up

with some reason why it was invalid, like her mom

had raised her to feel. Like her dad had proven she was.

She didn't recognize her own strength, even when it was

so obviously there. So what would it take for her to see it?

Where was her power?