I have no reason to stretch the truth until I bend into a lie that says, I have stood my ground, I am not breaking, I am as whole as I’ve ever been. No. That’s not the truth. As much as it hurts, this truth of mine, as much as it sticks a knife in the gut of all I have ever been, and twists its broken blade inside of me to show me my reflection in the pieces of that shattered mirror where I once looked and smiled, I have crumbled. I have finally crumbled. But I’m not looking away from the pieces that promise to be whole again. I look straight into the mirror that was once like a dare to bring on seven years of bad luck. I’m not afraid anymore because at this point, I’ve seen the darkest room, stood in the loneliest corner, held the emptiest hand. There are days when I cannot imagine anything worse. Those are the days that turn into nights that can’t wait to prove me wrong and they always do. So I don’t know what’s left anymore. The breaking, the crumbling, the standing, the falling; I’m exhausted.
The battle that I’m fighting is the battle that constantly wins. My ass has been kicked enough, I’m not sure I have it in me to keep standing up to ask for another.