this year i found myself broken
before i even knew i was breaking.

sitting on the edge of my bed
staring at the floor of my bedroom,
with a pain in my heart and a sickness in my head
that no living being should experience,
i tried so hard to leave this world
and i came so close to being gone.

i woke up to the sound of the hospital machines
that were keeping me alive and spent the following days
lying in an unfamiliar bed in a cold hospital room,
staring at the ceiling in disbelief.

i never imagined myself alive at age twenty,
but there i was, lying in a hospital bed,
alive, hopeless, but alive.

through this brokenness i was brought to people
who believed i had the strength to piece myself whole again.
and i spent so much of the time pushing them away
because i was afraid to fail at living,
the same way i had failed at dying.

but these people never gave up on me
even when i had long given up on myself,
and soon i started to accept the help i
had convinced my self i was unworthy of.

this year was brutal.

even now there are times that feel impossible
but in those moments, i remind myself that
even breathing is an act of courage.

there are still days where i curse my sorrow
but i am learning that this pain is what has
taught me compassion in the truest form.

i have spent months unlearning the lies
that years of abuse left me believing true
and planting a garden of self love instead.

i had spent so long living in darkness
that i believed i was beyond repair,
but i am learning that there is no such thing.

i have a place in this world and
i am piecing myself whole again.

i am growing,
i am learning,
i am rebuilding.
i am alive.

and this is only the beginning.