A Tale of Strength

Ladies and gentlemen, I give you… irreparable content. AGAIN. Because I care for you and it, which is automatically my brain. But you get the gist. So… content.

This posts topic, centers on strength, inner strength or outer strength (that I don’t have) whatever. I’m not some guru that can break down those two types of strengths in a way that screams philosophy major (I hated philosophy). What I am is a writer that has gone through something that forces me to realize my weaknesses and my strengths as a human being in the 21st century and a representative of the empowered female population. Lol. I really wanted to add that.

I always thought I was strong, mentally not physically. I could face anything that came my way. I wasn’t afraid of delving into the dark abyss that is humanity’s bad side. I was invincible in ways Batman would dream of. Then something happened that changed my life. And for the first time, I was afraid of taking those necessary steps forward, looking at what must be seen and facing reality.

I had lost my strength and had become the person that I low-key hated (low-key is the key word here). But this weak girl had to come out, you know? She had to see and feel. For how could she regain her inner strength?? I’m talking like I have a multiple personality disorder. I think I do sometimes, has anyone watched the movie Split? You need to watch that. It was so good.

Yeah back to this girl that I am using inadvertently to describe myself in the third person.

She had to pause. Everything. She had to understand what was best for her. She had to realize that feelings weren’t a liability, that for her to become strong again, she had to cry. And cry she did. Long ass two-hour long tears in the darkness, memories, lessons, fights, advice, bad memories, country music and food had to be remembered. She had to feel.

I had to feel.

I had to remember my very own inner strength.

Because the reason for my tears, would want me to be strong. They would want no tears. They would want no pain.

So here I am. I’m calling it stage two growing up, because I have a lot of that to do. And this strength, I think it’s part of it. The loss and pain, it is so part of it. Because for the first time in my life, I didn’t find strength from my will power or my brain or my very scary mantra, I found strength in the tears I shed at night. Feelings that I swore I never had.

That means something right? I think it does.

I’m part of the L.O.V.E.L.E.S.S. generation, cold and useless. Hahahaha. But I believe I’m growing up and learning that emotions and strength, go hand in hand. I am human after all.

Look at that Santa!!!!


Wanna Be Sage.




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