No one teaches you how to grieve the life you thought you'd have.
How to carry versions of yourself that never made it.

How to smile with cracked teeth
or love with a heart that flinches.

They don't teach you that bravery
is sometimes just making it to next week.
That healing isn't pretty-
it's messy, loud, and sometimes lonely.

But you learn.
You learn to sit with the silence.
To keep living like maybe
the best part hasn't happened yet.

I am not always okay-
but I'm always trying.

Some days,
the weight is quiet.
Other days,
it screams through my bones
and I still show up.

I've learned to be the calm
when nothing else is.
To hold my own hand
when no one else reaches for it.

I do not need to be loud
to be strong.
I do not need to be seen
to be real.

And if I am only
a soft kind of brave-
that's still brave enough.

It told me
the faster you run,
the more you miss.

That growing up
isn't something you notice-
until you can't go back.

It said
you will lose people
who loved you deepley,
and still feel like it was your fault.

And letting go?
It's not peace at first.
Sometimes it feels like
betrayal
with a ribbon it.

I asked,
how do I know I'm doing it right?

Time exhaled.
And said,
"Because it hurts less
than holding on did."

It told me
you can survive anything
if you're quiet about it.

That healing
looks a lot like pretending-
until it doesn't.

It said
love won't save you
if you keep offering it
as proof
you're worth saving.

And forgiveness?
It's not always holy.
Sometimes it's
just surrender
in a prettier dress.

I asked,
when do I become enough?

The mirror blinked.
And said,
"When you stop asking."

Smirk to the left side of my face,
                                                            Smir­k to the right side of my face.
                                        Now, it's symmetrical.
                      Grin some more.
                            You thought pain breaks me, no.
                                                      You thought that would **** me, nah.
                                             It only makes me stronger.

Laughing my *** off for your assuming talent. Believe me I tried, but when I heard it, it sounded out quite hilarious.

Harder =)
Better ;)
Faster :)
Stronger • • •

If I could turn back time
I would hit Backspace all day,
Id put on Caps Lock
and SHOUT what I say.

I'd use the whole Alphabet
To tell you hello,
Press seven Numbers
Til you picked up the phone.

I'd Tab through the comments
I didn't want to hear,
And use the Arrow Keys
To drag your body near.

I would Delete the harsh words
I didn't mean to speak,
And Insert the "I love yous"
I before couldn't leak.

I would use Ctrl to
Keep reigns over my heart,
And I would Escape lies
That tore us apart.

I'd Print out your photo
And kiss it goodnight,
Use the Calculator
To check that we were right.

I'd Paint you a picture
of us, you and me,
Then I'd hit Enter
Just so you would see.

Those are the things
I would do in my strife,
If only Backspace
worked in real life.

not perfect, not loud.
but the kind of love that lets you be.
they'll see the mess inside you,
and love you anyway, just like the sea.

they won't need you to shrink or perform,
they'll love the way you're soft and torn.
they'll call you beatiful-not just "hot"-
see your heart, and all it's not.

they won't run when things get hard,
or hide when you're left feeling scarred.
they'll listen when you need to speak,
stay when you're strong and when you're weak.

you'll never have to guess or chase,
they'll show up in the darkest place.
they'll be the trust you've always lacked,
the hands that pull you from the black.

they won't complete you-
but with them, you'll feel whole.
someone who sees your soul.

and when they love you,
you'll know it's real.
not because they say it,
but because they feel.