Clementine von Radics

You are now 18standing on the precipice,trembling before your own greatness.This is your call to leap.There will always being those who say you are too young and delicate to make anything happen for yourself. They don__ see the part of you that smolders.Don__ let their doubting drown out the sound of your own heartbeat.You are the first drop of a hurricane.Your bravery builds beyond youYou are needed by all the little girls still living in secret, writing oceans made of monsters andthrowing like lightening.You don__ need to grow up to find greatness.You are stronger than the world has ever believed you to be.The world is waiting for you to set it on fireTrust in yourselfand burn.

The good news is you survived. The bad news is you're hurt and no one can heal you but yourself.

There will always be thosewho say you are too young and delicateto make anything happen for yourself.They don't see the part of you that smolders.Don't let their doubting drown outthe sound of your own heartbeat.You are the first drop of rain in a hurricane.Your bravery builds beyond you.You are needed by all the little girlsstill living in secret, writing oceansmade of monsters, andthrowing like lightning.You don't need to grow upto find greatness.You are so much stronger than the worldhas ever believed you could be.The world is waiting for youto set it on fire. Trust in yourselfand burn.

You are on the floor crying,and you have been on the floor crying for days.And that is you being brave.That is you getting through itas best you know how. No one else can decideWhat your tough looks like.

I will love you when you are a still day.I will love you when you are a hurricane.

Be merciful until you can't be.Until you feel your heart begin to harden into a bullet.Then use that bullet.

You told me mornings were the best time to break your own heart. So here I am, smoking your brand of cigarettes for the scent. I wonder if you still sing Beatles songs as you make coffee. You said your mother used to sing them to you when you couldn__ sleep, nineteen years before we met, twenty before you moved your clothes out of our closet while I was at work. By the way, I hate you for leaving all the photographs on the fridge. Taking them down felt like peeling off new scabs, like slapping a sunburn. I spent so many nights carving your body into pillows, I can promise you nothing feels like sleeping with your arm around me and your breath in my ear. Still, it__ comforting to know we sleep under the same moon, even if she__ so much older when she gets to me. I like to imagine she__ seen you sleeping and wants me to know you__e doing well.

I thought leaving you would be easy, just walking out the door but I keep getting pinned against it with my legs around your waist and it__ like my lips want you like my lungs want air, it__ just what they where born to do so I am sitting at work thinking of you cutting vegetables in my kitchen your hair in my shower drain your fingers on my spine in the morningwhile we listen to Muddy Waters, I knowyou will never be the one I call home but the way you talk about poems like marxists talk of revolution it makes me want to keep trying. I__ still looking for reasons to love you.I__ still looking for proof you love me.

But my heart is an old house(the kind my mothergrew up in)hell to heat and cooland faulty in the wiringand though it__ nice to look atI have no businessinviting lovers in.

I. Those of us born by water are never afraid enough of drowning. Bruises used to trophy my knees from my death-defying tree climb jumps. Growing up, my backyard was a forest of blackberry bushes. I learned early nothing sweet will come to you unthorned. II. At twelve your body becomes a currency. So Jenny and I sat down and cut up all our clothes into nothing. That year I failed math class but knew the exact number of calories in a carrot stick. I learned early being desired goes hand in hand with hunger.III. The last time I tried to scream I felt my father climbing up through my throat and into my mouth.IV. There is a certain kind of girl who reads Lolita at fourteen and finds religion. I painted my eyes black and sucked barroom cherries to red my tongue. There was a boy who promised Judas really did love Jesus. I learned early every kiss and betrayal are up for interpretation.V. I think he must have conferenced with my nightmares on exactly how to hurt me.VI. He never broke my heart. He only turned it into a compass that always points me back to him.

My battered heart will always be where the ocean meets the sand, I will break over and overEvery day. That is the best andworst part of me.

All this timeI drank you like the cure when maybeyou were the poison.

I brought a knife to the gunfight. I am the knife. I am all blade.

I wonder if you know yet that you__l leave me. That you are a child playing with matches and I have a paper body. You will meet a girl with a softer voice and stronger arms and she will not have violent secrets or an affection for red wine or eyes that never stay dry. You will fall into her bed and I__l go back to spending Friday nights with boys who never learn my last name.

YOU NEVER NEED TO APOLOGIZEFOR HOW YOU CHOSE TO SURVIVE

I__ not sure what to say about struggle except that it feels like a long, dark tunnel with no light at the end. You never notice until it__ over the ways it has changed you, and there is no going back. We struggled a lot this year. For everyone who picked a fight with life and got the shit kicked out of them: I__ proud of you for surviving. This year I learned that cities are beautiful from rooftops even when you__e sad and that swimming in rivers while the sun sets in July will make you feel hopeful, no matter what__ going on at home. I found out my best friend is strong enough to swing me over his shoulder like I__ weightless and run down the street while I__ squealing and kicking against his chest. I found out vegan rice milk whipped cream is delicious, especially when it__ licked off the stomach of a boy you love. This year I kissed too many people with broken hearts and hands like mousetraps. If I could go back and unhurt them I would. If I could go back even farther and never meet them I would do that too. I turned 21. There__ no getting around it. I__ an adult now. Navigating the world has proved harder than I expected. There were times I was reckless. In my struggle to survive I hurt others. Apologies do not make good bandages. I__ not sure what to say about change except that it reminds me of the Bible story with the lions_ den. But you are not named Daniel and you have not been praying, so God lets the beasts get a few deep, painful swipes at you before the morning comes and you__e pulled into the light, exhausted and cut to shit. The good news is you survived. The bad news is you__e hurt and no one can heal you but yourself. You just have to find a stiff drink and a clean needle before you bleed out. And then you get up. And start over.

I don't know whyI've got so much hopepinned to someone who will never call me home.

It__ just so strange.You used to love me,and now you__e a strangerwho happens to know allof my secrets.