her

I think about “her” a lot– 

She is sad, and lonely, and has looked for love in places where she knows it is no good but tries anyways. 

She has sacrificed her comfort and her peace dozens of times for the sake of others. 

She cries often. 

She is somehow simultaneously too trusting and has no trust at all. 

She's made herself a doormat and a housewife more times than she'd like to admit. 

She lives inside of me, and she still comes out from time to time. Insecurity creeps in when I’m reminded of the things I “lack”.

“you don’t know how much violence it took for me to be this gentle”

And now, (I have fought tooth and nail for this) my life is about love, about comfort and light, about satiety and understanding and compassion. I am less concerned with these unrealistic expectations that people who were never going to truly love me created and that I continued to hold on to. 

I say “less” concerned because some days are still a fight.

At the end of the day, I'm all alone (we all are) whether it happens to be literally or metaphorically. 

I cannot expect anyone to carry my burdens for me and no one else is responsible for my trauma, my reactions, my sadness. 

I choose how I handle those things. I choose how I move forward. 

It is a conscious effort to be strong, to follow my dreams, to choose people and places and things that fill me up and love me as fiercely as I love them. It is a conscious daily effort to resist instant gratification with my bigger goals in mind. 

“sacrifice today to live in paradise tomorrow”

I am by no means perfect, but I’m a hell of a lot better than I used to be, and that’s gotta count for something.

xx alyx jane