The churning rocks you feel in your gut will someday be the soil from which flowers will bloom.
Pick up that pen and hold on to it for dear life. Keep scrawling it all into that spiral notebook until you can smell the hot blue Bic ink rising from the page and your face isn’t red hot with anger and pain anymore. Get it out. It’s going to save you. Poison on a page dries, but inside you it feeds.
Things are going to get worse before they get better, but you don’t have to always take the hard route to punish yourself. You don’t deserve it, even though you think you do. Just feel me hugging you and rubbing your back, soothing you. It’s going to be okay. It’s going to be okay. Sometimes make the choice that doesn’t feel like swallowing glass, because the pain will stay with you longer than you know. You will be around longer than you know. You will be okay. There is a God.
You will be wiser one day, and some of that wisdom will feel like warm light, not just razor-sharp edges to scoot around. You will stop running. Someone is going to love you and you are going to love yourself and not be so afraid to love others. You are going to be a survivor and then thrive.It’s going to be okay. It’s going to be okay. You are not worthless. You are as smart as those kind teachers once said you are when you were small enough to look up at their beaming faces. You don’t have to keep swallowing glass. Save yourself. Keep writing. Keep writing.