Dear Brokenness,

Thank you.

for sharing all of your pieces with me,

for appearing shattered and disjointed,

for scattering me to the wind,

Thank you,

for severing the bonds I thought I had with myself,

for the distance between me and my idea of whole,

for shifting me into unrecognizable figures,

Thank you,

for the space of emptiness left in your presence,

for the gap in my missing light,

for the void in my heart,

Thank you,

for the tears I've cried in the stillness of the night,

for the questions that returned no answer,

for the dizziness at the height of my desperation,

Thank you,

for the anxiety I feel at the threat of becoming undone,

for the grief I have when we lock eyes,

for the silence at my rage,

Thank you,

for reminding me of our incompatibility,

for reminding me of your lack of compassion,

for reminding me that there is no escape,

Thank you,

for being unable to fit,

for introducing me to division,

for suffocating the space I needed,

Thank you for refusing to be a home for me, because you know that there will never be a home for you.

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Talk To The Void

The void has just as much of a heart as any human. We might imagine that just because we do not know the void, the void does not know us. 

But we visit the void every dreamless night.

Do we ever give thought to the ideas and seeds we toss into the shadows, in the places that we know people rarely visit? Or do we pretend that the darkness only means an absence of light?

We tread the void knowing we feel the solid ground, the rich earth of vast potential, and it is there that we think of all the things we cannot escape. The sun must balk at us knowing that even with its revealing light we find ourselves suffocated all the same. Perhaps we think courage is the poison of our imagination, the ingredient that could finally make our visions come to life. 

And we need only water it with a word... but we hold our tongue. Afraid that the seed might grow we hold our tongue, and the void grows lonely still.

The void needs to be fed. The void needs to be watered. The void is much like the desert, but regardless of how dry the moisture in the air is, the desert can transform into a wetland marsh with a careful word and a deliberate answer. The void always has questions that need an answer, and in between every silence it leans on you to hear your heartbeat. Do you know that the void is always listening?

Every word you speak removes the veil upon the world that you see, and another slab of the map loses its mystery. The void prepares itself ahead of you, timing your every step with curiosity of the next, even though it has seen you move many times before. There is no shortage of excitement with the void. The void's childlike exuberance ensures that it will never get bored.

That is perhaps the most endearing of all with the void, that in its eyes it sees you, only you and no one else in its permanent expanse. It's the romance we have always dreamed of.

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Where Strong People Go

Strong people do not look for someone to depend on, they prepare and build what they need to depend on in advance.

When strong people feel lost, their sense of stability is restored by engaging the distant edges of their boundaries. That is where strong people find comfort.

Most people would agree that their own ideas of comfort are not related to exploring their own boundaries. However, strong people allow their instinct of exploration to flow into the realm of comfort. It is there that they find remnants of themselves that otherwise would have been left undiscovered and hidden from the world. 

Strong people are lonely because they often challenge their concepts of comfort around those who do not. 

And so begins the journey of the strong.

Strong people decide on the type of journey they embark on before they leave their nest. They take just as much mental inventory as they do physical inventory. Every comfort they currently have is the way they measure the requirements of that journey. 

Most of the weight a strong person carries is in their hearts, rather than their hands.

To strong people, home is that weight. 

It's easy to imagine why the emptiness of a room is felt when a strong person exits that place. They carried home into your front door, placed home gently onto your shelves, sent home up in the air with laughter, held home with you in between their arms, and shuffled home out the door as it closed behind them. 

Strong people do not encounter others with the mindset that one day they will have to depart, it is likely they would disagree that "this will be the last time".   

Strong people know that "now" is always the last time, the first time, the next time, the right time, it is all a convenience of imagination. 

Fear for a strong person is having to wrestle home away from those who would overstay their welcome.

Anxiety for a strong person is having to decide between progression and communion, between advancement and contemplation. They already know the decision they are going to make, but in the face of an enforcer, home becomes a battlefield. 

Strong people are not strangers to war; they remember every detail of their own internal siege. They recall every missile in the form of self-deceit, every grenade blast of denial, the deafening rattle of the rifles that laid their life to rest with the hopes of a brighter tomorrow and colored the skies with agony and grief...

They have not forgotten.  

Where strong people go when all the lands are finally at peace, is where they always would have gone: to the edges of their boundaries, with home in their hearts, and to the horizons with hope of a brighter tomorrow.

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