Listen to me, little bird.
There are times to hurt and there are times to cry and there are times when the world feels like a lonely place. There are times when you just want to curl up and to sleep and to hope that it feels better when you wake up, because right now there is a hole and you don’t have the ingredients to fill it. Someone took a piece of you, and you can’t get it back.
There are times when the world will tell you how much they admire your strength, and you want to hold your hands out to them and to show them just how empty they are.
Listen to me, little bird.
Hurting doesn’t mean that you are weak.
Healing doesn’t mean that you are weak.
You are not always going to be the girl who is one step ahead; That’s a precarious rope to walk. Sometimes, you’re going to have to be the girl who falls.
Hard, for his smile, for the way that he makes you feel like a dancer.
Hard, at the ground.
Hard, and his hands leave bruises on your thighs and under your eyes.
Listen to me, little bird.
You are used to falling.
But more importantly, you are used to standing back up. The scars on your knees are testament to the times you have had to push yourself up and to gingerly pluck the stones out. The scars on your palms tell the story of the times that you threw your hands out the catch yourself, and ended up with fistfuls of mud and blood for your efforts.
You are not weak. You have not run out of energy. You are just getting started.
