untitled

I am not here to tell you it’s going to be okay because you already know that. Anyone can tell you that. I am not here to stitch up your wounds.

I am not a nurse or a doctor. I don’t know how to fix you and I wouldn’t want to try. I am here to tell you that it’s time to heal.

It’s time to let go of the years you’ve lost to your misery. The years you’ve spent falling in love with your sadness and the way

your bones look when there’s nothing but skin over them. Stop planning out your funeral and stop writing your suicide note.

Save your energy for the love letters you will have to write one day. Save your good stationery. Stop staring at your veins like they

will bleed answers. Some days, you will still feel the hollow sort of heaviness like your bones are made of iron pipes.

All you need to hear is that it is okay to be sad for no reason, a billion reasons, or for one small reason. Some days your lungs

will bleed and the fresh air is made of salt. Some days your skin will be a wound and the world is nothing but acid. On these days,

you need to know that it is okay to cry. Some days you will feel naked and vulnerable like when sadness left, he took your whole

closet with him. I am writing this because none of us can be saved. None of us can be fixed because there’s nothing that needs fixing.

You are you. Do not listen to the boy who tells you that you are broken because he hasn’t bothered looking in a mirror.

Some days, loud noises will still feel like needles on your skin. People will raise their voices and they will ask why you are scared

of them. Some days you will still cringe when men touch you. There will be days when you will go the beach wishing

the sea was made of alcohol so that you can stop dreaming in black and white. You will wonder why they’ve put you on so many

drugs and you will ask yourself why you can’t function on any less. On days like this, there are only a couple things you must remember:

you’ve been through worse before. You are limitless. The things you are capable of, are infinite. There is someone waiting

to tell you how proud they are of you for making it this far. I am writing this to tell you that it’s time to let go of your walls,

your ceiling, your floor and grab onto the sky.

10:00 a.m. (For the people who think no one understands)

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