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I don’t think I was sent here by God. I think I was sent here as a punishment to anyone who believes in him. As a reminder that there’s far more sinister things in the world than the seven deadly sins.
I won't be shrinking myself down to make anyone else more comfortable. I refuse to deny myself any sort of closure or justice because of how hard the truth might be for them to swallow.
I plan to take my truth and scream it from the top of the highest mountain. And if anyone has trouble swallowing it, I'll be sure to shove it down their throats to help them digest it.
I’ve spent enough time in peace that the anger I held inside of me over that fateful night and everything that came of it has dissipated.
“Death is inevitable. Grief is a privilege. It means you've loved someone enough to want the impossible—for them to live
forever.”
It means you've loved someone enough to want the impossible—for them to live forever.
One thing that’s conveniently left out of a caterpillar’s metamorphosis is the part where they turn to goo before becoming the beautiful butterfly everyone loves so dearly. The ugly transformation, when everything they once were is completely erased to make room for the new, better version of them.
It's odd how quickly you can return to normal after being thrown into survival mode so many times. How the recovery time seems to shrink with every traumatic event.
I'm finally comfortable and safe enough to say I'm done with purely surviving. I'm existing on a completely different plane—one I never realized was possible. One where I can enjoy my days and appreciate what I have while it's still here.
