Warrior

The thing nobody talks about is how hard the internal fight is.

The glory of the win is sold but the cost is downplayed.

How badly this disappointment fucked me up is not measured by those that advise me.

I pay for the heartbreak in every movement of my limbs. In every decision I’ve made since,

Every interaction now costs me like never before.

Does that make sense to anybody? Or am I just on an island?

I will never be the same girl that I was before the pain.

The dark night of the soul came as a result and I’m forever…different.

I want to say I feel like I’m not whole, but that isn’t quite what I mean.

I mean to say that I am filled with me.

And yet I do not know myself. I am foreign and therefore overwhelmed with this foreign being.

A stranger on to myself.

I keep living for other people, for routines, for the sake of just living.

I work just for the sake of working.

I eat and taste nothing.

I smile and then forget what happiness feels like.

Nothing sticks.

I read books and I intentionally exist. I create.

There is no relief from this existence.

Nobody talks about that struggle.

Nobody tells you it may be forever, or that forever will live in every moment.