I have began to have so many good days that I forget the bad.
But when the bad days begin to ebb and flow back to shore,
I can feel the currents of a tsunami.

I stand on top of the tallest building
as I watch the wave rush in,
the force nature taking demolishing my sanctuary.
My progress.
My safety.
My recovery.
I watch as all of it fades away.

And then it recedes,
slowly,
painfully,
leaving a broken, ****** mess in it's wake .

It's a mess
that I will have to clean up.

there will be nights where you chase stars
and follow them through galaxies and supernovas
waiting for them to slow down

and on those nights you need to land
let your feet rest in the craters of the moon
and learn that you
are the sun

sometimes you have to say goodbye to be completely gone
and once those words leave your mouth
you will be free
you will be free
you will be free

you will soar over mountain tops
and look down from the crest of the horizon

say goodbye
go
and be free

you cannot heal in the same place you were broken
and once you leave
you will understand

understand that the broken floorboards glued your feet down
and the floral curtains bound your wrists
and the familiar hallways were just mazes
created to keep you lost

but someday you will leave
and destroy the floorboards
the floral curtains
and the hallways that kept you in

you will find peace somewhere else
maybe within the trees
or the bustle of the city

and then you will heal

To the bright-eyed girl who didn't understand a thing
Not because she didn't care,
But because she didn't need to

Instead of perfume,
her mother covered herself in whiskey.
Instead of cologne,
her dad wore *****.

And it wasn't a tragedy,
it was simply normal.

Until she realized that ****** fists and slamming doors
had no place in a home.
And that maybe
just maybe
her house was never really a home.

Because ignorance is bliss.
And if you don't understand
that some things are right
and some are wrong
everything is still just okay

To the bright-eyed girl who didn't know
that her childhood was ripped away
until it was too late

To the women who dismantled the world
with their bare hands
just to build it up again.

May we know them.
To the Eleanor Roosevelts,
to the Marilyn Monroes.
To our mothers
and our grandmothers

May we be them.
Women who speak with fire
and revel in the flame,
who shatter the glass ceiling
and dance around the broken shards.

May we raise them.
To our sisters
and our daughters.
To the women who came before me
and all of the girls who will come after.

Here’s to strong women.

Existing in a house with an alcoholic isn't quite existing. It's tiptoeing around corners and walking on broken glass. It's waiting for the bomb to drop with the closest shelter miles out of reach.

I try to shed my skin but it sticks like glue. It covers me in shame and pain and the irreversible smell of ***** and *****.

I don't exist. I just simply am.

I am the daughter of a drunkard.

I am covered in guilt.

I am.

I mold myself to fit into a box that's half my size. I rip my own words out of my own mouth so I don't hurt the feeling of the people who have mutilated mine.  

I haven't existed yet, but someday I will.