HER FINGERTIPS HOVER
ever so delicately 
just along the foggy pane of the bathroom glass.
Just behind.
Just behind. 

She carves a line on the mirror
the condensed water dripping like dew
from the tip of her finger.
Tracing the reflection of the lines
curving out from her eyes.

Wondering which worries have caused them…

Worries that matter.
Worries that don’t .

I yearn to whisper to her, 

Stop…

you’re missing it​.

My early morning workspace.

 
The truth is,
everyone is battling with something.
Whether it be an external conflict
or an inner demon -
no one person is exempt.

That’s the deal we make - that’s the human experience.

Whether you are deep in the fury of your storms
or the pendulum swing has temporarily granted you mercy,
I think we must take a minute
to pay a homage to our pain.

Because the reality is,
some of the most beautiful aspects
of who we are,
were once shaped by the darkest days of our lives. 

Think about it...

Your convictions. 
Your truths. 
Your battle wounds. 

Your deeply ingrained strength that held you together when everything seemed to crash around you...
​
was welded together
from all the things that once broke you. 

Our scars are what make us beautiful. 

If it weren’t for the soul-crushing,
slide-down-the-wall-with-my-head-in-my-hands,
cry-until-I-can’t-breathe
loss and rejection I experienced at a young age,
I wouldn’t be here today. 

And here..
where I stand in this moment,
is so much better
than anything I could have ever dreamed of.

Stand proud.
Stand TALL.
You are stronger than you think. 
And it is only because you have fought your way through.

Your wounds have become your wings. 

So keep on keeping on,

you tough little thing, you.