6 months have passed since you’ve last written anything. 6 months. You did get in. You got in. And you hate it. I absolutely think it was the worst blessing of my life. But they say that God doesn’t give you anything that you cannot handle. So I guess, this, too, will pass.
The year is ending. Today is Christmas Eve. You don’t celebrate Christmas but you’re wearing a pocket tee with a santa hat and the words ho-ho etched in its little window. And right now, things are the worse it has ever been. There have been a lot of times in the past couple of months where you have been genuinely contemplating of leaving this plane of existence we call life. You haven’t. That’s nice. That’s good.
But I still want to cry right now. When the world gets down your spirits and provokes the hatred out of your bones, you want nothing to do with the world. But they say that’s how stronger, kinder people are built. Because they were made to endure. The problem is sometimes, I do not want to be strong, nor kind anymore. I just want to be able to breathe without feeling like everything will swallow me whole.
Maybe I’ll write more often. It has always felt better when I do.
As this year is closing, please remember this. There will always be people who will grow to hate you. There will always be people who do not like your guts. There will always be people who usher others just to talk about you, and what you can and cannot do. There will always be people that have nothing to do but go on and on about what you’ve done wrong. But they are not your people. It is not your job or your obligation to mold yourself like clay for you to be someone they like. Because the right people, your people, will see you, exactly for who you are, and what you can do, and what you can’t, and who will love you just as fierce and just as boldly are they did before. Those are your people. and no matter how many times you dug through the dirt and mud of growth and the pain that comes with it, once you look to your side, it will be them in that very same dirt and mud, telling you that you are not the product of the mess you have caused, but you are the person that comes out from it. No longer clean, not entirely. But just as brand new. Just as beautiful. And just as worthy of love and respect as anyone else.
The future will be bright. I guess I just have to be there to see it.
Happy Holidays. Here’s hoping I make it.