Sometimes a blank page says enough. Hold the feelings inside until you are ready to release the pain of whatever struggle you are clenching. Hold it as long as you need to. Feel it as long as you need to feel it. It’s yours. No one else can tell you how to heal or how to feel. You do you. Don’t let anyone make you feel as though you don’t know how to let go, because sometimes letting go means holding on until it all makes sense. Until you understand that it mattered or it didn’t and you learn the reasons from whatever the lesson is. Hold it until it stops hurting as much, write out the pain, turn it into Poetry, or art… or anything that says… I felt this…. and it fucking hurt, but look, I turned the blood into beauty like no one else can. Rewrite your pain, change the ending, paint over the beginning, rearrange the middle. Whatever you need to do for you. This life….. it’s your sky; a blank canvas waiting for you to write your name across it.
Letters to Myself