And I ask myself again, is this really strength?
Refusing to let anyone in, not telling anyone how I truly feel, and keeping so many secrets to myself? Is this what strength is like?
What doesn’t kill you, only makes you stronger, or so I believe. Betrayal after betrayal will only make me stronger. It’s like building immunity. You need your walls up to feel different kinds of attacks so that they can be stronger, thicker, and higher.
One scratch won’t make a warrior. Scratches and blood might.
So shouldn’t I be grateful that I have had so many scars? That I have faced so many battles? Shouldn’t all of us be thankful?
Our traitors deserve our gratitude, little notes of “Thank you” to remind them that they have done us a favor by hurting us and leaving us.
For without them, we would still be weak.
We should thank them for choosing themselves, to not think of our feelings, and to abandon us when we needed them. We should thank them for making us realize that in the end, we can trust no one. We should thank them for letting us see how sometimes, kindness isn’t repaid by kindness, but ice cold shoulder and goodbye.
But why does strength seem so far away? Why do my bones freeze when I try to be strong? Why do my fingers turn ice cold? And my legs go numb at the thought of moving forward?
Why is strength so distanced from happiness? How is something that sounds so good so painful to bear?
Is this really strength?
Or is it just an illusion to keep me from admitting that I’m truly broken?