Jennifer Handford

Maybe heartache was more normal than the absence of it.

Neruda poem that talked about __he light of hidden flowers._ It__ easy to believe in people when they have it all together on the outside. It__ way cooler to believe in them when what they have is still a little buried.

You__e gotta believe that the split second that changed your life__he brief moment that took your leg and bruised your melon__an__ be the defining moment of your life. It was just an instant, a flash. Just one second out of millions of seconds. It doesn__ get to own you.

We were not born whole; we were born new, and each life experience coated us with another layer. These layers protected us like armor, but they also covered us to the point where we no longer could feel. That was the balance: to open up to the experiences, to strategically place the layers, but to leave the heart open. The heart had to be sent into the front lines every day, naked, unarmed, willing to take fire. That was the only way to live. With risk. On the cusp of dying.

So long as I was pursuing my passion, I would always find courage. I would be restored. My history of silence didn__ have to be my future.