You know those houses built over cliffs? Top halves built on stable ground, then wrapped over the edge to hang over oblivion- held up by the thickest, strongest, most trustworthy beams for an undoubtable support?

Replace the house with the "weight of the world," fill it with "emotional baggage," and nickname the whole thing as "the one who always gets away." Last but not least, those beams that hold it all together, that act as the anchor between the world and demolition? Make those dowel rods that we'll call faith, held together with what might be masking tape. They tremble with what we'll point out as fear.

This picture haunts my dreams, and I'm sure that it shows sometimes, but what I can see if I inspect real close is a strengthening faith. The broad  support of your love is being nailed in beside my growing faith, the nails are of trust replacing the worn through bits of tape and giving fear no place. Everyday it builds stronger.

I'm replacing misconceptions with what I know as truth, I'm not the one who always gets away, I've always been pushed or thrown away, and all I've got as my foundation now is hope that the same won't happen again. While strength is building with more faith every day in new beginnings, in you, truth is cleaning house. Useless baggage thrown out, and a remodel to bring life back to what was dilapidated. How ironic and beautiful that the more strength is built up, the lighter I'm becoming.