Through everything I have endured, I still live through hope.
I love fully. I dream wildly. I feel completely.
I could be embittered, but I know bruises heal.
I could be cold and callous, but my blood flows warmly. My exhaled breath fogs over the mirror of deceit.
I could be hardened to the idea of love, but my heart beats passionately reminding the rest of my body love is out there.
I could compartmentalize each broken promise. I could internalize every time a negative word was said. I did all of these. I did them all each day. But I do not want to be hardened. Hardened to possibilities.
I still hurt. I still ache that crippling, griping ache that clings to me like anxious sweat. Telling me I will never be enough.