June 25, 2020

A Message to the Broken-Hearted (I Know it Really F*cking Hurts).


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This is for every time they didn’t call.

It’s for every night you sat in bed, silently crying because you were too emotionally drained to create sound.

You are not alone.

Remember when you put your heart on the table? Remember when you tried to point out the pain, and they said you were crazy? I’m sorry.

I’m sorry you thought you had to consolidate your magic into a hat for someone who did a disappearing act.

Or maybe they didn’t disappear. Maybe they are loud. Maybe their manipulations scream through your veins.

I wish I could make you understand that you’re not alone. And that you’re worth so much more.

I see you walking down the street like a mixture of sunshine and ghosts; I wish I could take that heaviness from your eyes.

And I swear there is something bigger out there. I remember the days that blurred into nights, and I remember the ache in my belly. I used to think it was for another person, but now I see that I was aching to come home to myself.

One day you will remember who you are. One day, when they tell you that you are too much, you will not shatter beneath the words. 

When you finally let them in, they told you that you were heavy—you walk heavily on the ground. I’ve been there. I literally and figuratively tiptoed through it. 

I didn’t want to be heavy, or too much, or always lacking, so I emptied myself. I ignored the deal breakers.

Maybe you’ve done this—gutted yourself as they sucked all the air from your world. It’s a tragedy, but one day, you will come home.

You will make love to your light and befriend your demons. And chant to yourself: 

Inside me lives a league of furies and wonder. 

I will not apologize. 

I am tired of asking for forgiveness—for being who I am.

You betrayed me, but you did not break me.

You will dismantle their toxic words and sit firmly (heavily) in self-love. 

But, for now, this is for you. For the ones who bend themselves—break their bones for a love they had hoped for. I see you working so hard and living in a wasteland meant for pleasure.

You once believed they wanted the crashing waves of your soul—they said they would hold your dark blues. But listen, babe, they aren’t ready for the sea.

I know it’s hard. It’s really f*cking hard. But don’t forget that perfection is like plucking at fumes. Don’t forget that the universe is waiting for you.

You deserve a love who rips the sky open for you. Someone who makes space for you amongst their stars because they know you deserve to be there. They want you there—fractured and gleaming—because you light up their darkness. 

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