I am brittle, not broken.
I am fragile, yet stronger than any part of me that ever begged for mercy from the sweet darkness that inhabits my silent hours.
My diagnosis will not define me. It is but a drop in the oceans of love that swell and ebb behind my vacant stare.
My mind may be tainted, it will often descend into darkness but it ascends to the light with such glorious grace that I am grateful for the duality.
I sometimes hold on too tightly as I quake amongst dreams of letting go. White knuckles and curled fingers cling to the void that becomes my existence as my dark companion enters without pause or invitation and dances through my day with numbing ease.
Today I will refuse to follow.
Apr 13, 2015
Apr 13, 2015 at 3:51 AM UTC
I am brittle, not broken.
I am fragile, yet stronger than any part of me that ever begged for mercy from the sweet darkness that inhabits my silent hours.
My diagnosis will not define me. It is but a drop in the oceans of love that swell and ebb behind my vacant stare.
My mind may be tainted, it will often descend into darkness but it ascends to the light with such glorious grace that I am grateful for the duality.
I sometimes hold on too tightly as I quake amongst dreams of letting go. White knuckles and curled fingers cling to the void that becomes my existence as my dark companion enters without pause or invitation and dances through my day with numbing ease.
Today I will refuse to follow.
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