At times, the air is heavy, to carry us.

When I choose to hold on, when I choose to give life another shot, when I choose to take little of the air that seems too heavy for my chest to bear, I remember that mine is a journey that seemed impossible. For the past couple of months, I have been having a tough time putting my thoughts onto paper, praying for grace, and giving thanks. Life has been going on. While everything has been in motion, it felt as though I was not moving, yet everything inside me has been on a battle of its own, while my body remains a numb battlefield. It has been hard to see beauty in light- to imagine another day as being a sign of grace and love. I think I have been afraid of the light more than I have been about the dark, though I wanted neither. For so long, I have tried to numb everything with words. When I am in love, I write. When I am going through heartache, I write. When I am angry, I write. Words have been a place warmer than arms that have embraced me. They have been a place of refuge when a war is happening in my chest, and the ocean of love tries to calm down the fiery storm inside. But, I was afraid that all of that had been gone missing. I have looked for words to put this turmoil on a page. I have looked inside my mother’s eyes to find the peace to ink everything down. I have asked for my old lover to hold me so that I may write again. I have knelt down, seeking the face of God, and I could not utter any words. There is a time when the soul feels like an empty space. When the chest that carries your heart feels like an empty field, and there is a still noise you can only hear when you’re alone. There is a time when all feels so familiar, yet so foreign. There is a time you want to step outside yourself, discard that body, and pray for a new heart and mind. There is a time when all that used to make you stand out: your smarts, skills and smile, seem to be theatrical garments you put on so that you may no longer be foreign to anyone who used to love you. But, it is okay to want a new heart. You’re permitted to seek new light. You’re permitted to be afraid of that light. You’re obliged to be numb. You need no one’s permission to be still. You need no one’s permission to want to stop living. Even for a small second. You’re allowed to let go. You must let go. You must say no. Perhaps you may not make sense to many. Even if it means losing a crowd, let your words be the only audience you need. May every comma remind you of the peace you need. May every period remind you of your wholeness. Though sometimes fragmented, be broken for yourself.

You’re not allowed to be a victim. You’re forbidden from pitying yourself.

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