When the road has you tripping, and the tears balance themselves on your long beautiful eyelashes your mother gave you, I want you to find a way to still look at the world with hope, and open eyes knowing you are worthy. That life is worthwhile; full of souls who see you, and love you—even if sometimes you can’t see it, like when unable to recognize the oval shaped eyes your parents gave you because of the depression oozing through them, which you fear has everyone around you questioning your strength and leadership, when needing you to be strong, and together.
If not together, still know that it’s ok, for the person people look to look for help, to seek it, themselves; even if the people you go to for help run away when you need them the most; even when they find happiness in your absence; even when you feel that their lives would be better, without you ever having one.
Here is a letter full of expression for all of your silent, forced smiles; and all the suffering in your stares out of windows; wondering where happiness may be under the blue sky you picture yourself reaching sooner than later; for all lost time and words left unsaid, heavy sighs, and hopeless wishful thinking for doors left open without any closure; for crying, and trying your best to hide it.
I want you to know that those who depend on you cry too, and won’t feel like you are any less of their superhero if you ever dared to cleanse your soul and wash away the pain as you wash your face at a sink in a closed bathroom; with your hands over your mouth in a state of shock, shaking in grief. Unexplainably breathing with a heart rate that is as unfamiliar as the word anxiety is in our spoken vocabulary. Please, stay alive long enough to open your soul, like the roads we travel when faithful to our purpose; when committed to growth; and when finding moments you catch yourself saying, “that must be god.”
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