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To the one that held my heart and tore it apart
To the person who caught the shards and mended the parts
The above happened and the below occured.
Faith is a substance we hope for evidence of thing's we cannot see.
My torch is switched off
so I could better see
the darkness, for only the darkness
can show me the way
and set me free.

My torch is useless,
I drop it on purpose. I pretend though
that I do it accidentally.
Jus to let my demons believe
that they still follow me.

My torch is dead,
and I am so alive.
I shine and I can't stop shining
with the inner
Light.
You don’t have to rise like the sun each day—
some mornings, it's enough just to open your eyes,
to sit with the silence,
to feel your heartbeat and whisper, “I’m still here.”

You are not the storm that passed,
nor the ruins it left behind.
You are the seed under the soil,
waiting for the right rain,
the quiet miracle of a soul not giving up.

Let no one shame the pace of your healing.
Let no voice drown out the hush of your trying.
Because surviving is not small.
And breathing, on hard days,
is a kind of bravery the world forgets to praise.

So rest, dreamer.
You don’t need to shine tonight.
You just need to stay—
soft, alive,
and wildly worthy of tomorrow.
You push yourself hard and grind everyday and you are doing great, but sometimes when things are overwhelming you must to take a break.
🔥 There’s a time to roar, and a time to breathe.
You can’t fight every day with your fists in the air. Some days, the boldest thing you can do is sit quietly and say,

> “Not today—but I’ll rise again soon.”
~.                                          
Seriously
When it's said
  some words can haunt & pierce
deeper, sharper & more brutal than a blade
~the pallid blood flows 24/7 from your vein
    driving your mind to madness to pain.
~~
That cut, Gothic & red
   an open, hemorrhagic gate
never heals, never fades.
  And the pain
it will remain
  it will remain
~
Always
&
Forever
&
Permanently
.
~~
Wind gnaws at the cliffs,
breaking stone to grains of dust,
mountains lose their shape.

Dust is swept downstream,
drifting past the river’s edge,
soft hands carve through stone.

River splits the earth,
pulling roots from loosened ground,
trees bow, then descend.

Leaves drown in the waves,
fading under briny hush,
light slips into blue.

Foam dissolves to mist,
rising toward the silent peaks,
snow begins to bloom.

Cold weighs on the rock,
frost unthreads the mountain’s bones,
wind gnaws at the cliffs.

Even mountains yield—but not in defeat. Change is not erasure; it is becoming.
A flower,
Forced to be bloom.
It opens its petals too soon,
Everyone loved,satisfied,
But soon,
Left it alone in the gloom.
It's not about flowers 😔😔
In the tranquil woods,
I wander,
each tree a thought,
each breeze a lesson.

Remind me,
in every pathway,
I am part of it all,
in this art,
called life.
"Everything happens for a reason, good or bad."
And after watching (a lotttt of times) and analyzing Avengers: Endgame, I believe that they are very right, lol.
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