red-thread

I write letters to you that you__l never see.

Time' is the most threatening four letter word.

I tried to push my body through his and completely disappear.

So much has been done to my body, and still, somehow, not enough.

Your personal truth is your gift to the world.

I could watch him do this until morning _ never asking questions and never interrupting his work. I worship quietly _ his intense focus and attention to detail and then, out of no where, I realize the inconvenient, inappropriate truth: __ love this man_ and it has swallowed me.

He stirred my soul in the most subtle way and the story between us wrote itself.

I can do this_ I can start over. I can save my own life and I__ never going to be alone as long as I have stars to wish on and people to still love.

Stop trying to be less of who you are. Let this time in your life cut you open and drain all of the things that are holding you back.

I know that your soul is on life support and that you feel lost and like you__e completely spinning out of control, but you__e finding yourself _ here, tonight_ even in this darkness.

I really believe that there is an invisible red thread tied between him and me, and that it has stretched and tangled for years _ across oceans and lifetimes. I know that it won__ break because our souls are tied.

If ever I was running, it was towards you.

I just want your voice aimed at me again. I want to absorb the direction of your eyes_

I love him in ways that I can__ explain to other people. They don__ understand_ it__ not their fault.

I want you to trust yourself, baby. Love is all that matters and you__e always known that. You__e known, since you were a very little girl, what your life is meant to be about_

Everything hurts right now and nothing is helping because as the pain is getting worse _ so is the love.

I know that this process of __e changing my life_ doesn__ just end once I set fire to this list of things I hate about myself. Tonight isn__ as much of a new beginning as it is a violent end and I know the real work hasn__ even started yet.

I feel a resurgence of my 6-year-old self_ that little warrior, goddess of a girl reminding me of who I was when I was little, before the world got its hands on me.