I have a wall by my need covered in posters I've made. The majority are women whom I believe are far braver than, but I aspire to have their journeys. When it comes to being physically brave, there is no contest. Often times it is motivated not only by our courage but fear of not acting. Inside I battle. I am at war with myself and it is much easier to ignore the problems set before me. When it comes time to face these pustules of hate and despair, hurt and grief, there is no one in my corner. Maybe I am worthless. Will ever be like the brave women on my wall. They look at my grief and brush it off. I am fierce?
I pass along my grief to you, I can bare it no longer. Sometimes I brush off a piece here with a harsh word or hurting look and you carry it with you where ever you grow. Take that piece and put it where you will; a.dark secret cave, jar, chest. Build an entire dam of grief and stress. It will fall and you will be bullied over with sorrow, guilt, stress and loathing. Drown in it and then pass it along.
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