I'm pass the point of no return.

There is no thought that can't be said.
No secret than can be tucked away.

I will stand strong in this storm with my hands in fist and my feet planted in the ground.

Days of victory are soon to come & I refuse to be silenced by this crippling illness.

Whoa! The thunder woke me. It shakes this little house. The lightning seems to come directly to my window and it lights up my room like strobe light. I feel very small, and very scared. It feels weird because there was a time when this weather was rather empowering; now it is the opposite. But...I recall that time to be when I was the happiest with myself. So, things have happened, and I've lost confidence. I am realizing that only I am able to talk myself into who I was. Because I've never been one to stay down long. I've got a schedule of achievements to make. I am determined to rebuild what I have lost.

And just like that... the second round of thunder encourages me and I am laughing with excitement.

After all this compression, perhaps I am becoming something after all. Crawling away from my potential worth I feel myself writhing my way from between the rocks, taking quick, shallow breaths —learning to breathe again after all this time. Each inhale still feels heavy and constricted, and every exhale still brings a sense of dread for the rise and fall of my chest but I am moving forward. Even relieved, my ribcage is adjusting painfully to the freedom, coping with more lung space; a gift I received from you.

It's 3:05PM and as I sit outside in the warm sun, the sounds of a vacuum off in the distance and maybe a few cars that pass by, it dawns upon me: I don't need you. You don't control me. Whatever hold you had on me is gone, and I have come out the other side victorious and better for it.





Have a nice life, *******.