Every day
is an honest struggle
to fight the fear
that I am forever alone,
a war against mental snipers and automatic thoughts:
Always forgotten,
Always forgettable,
Always unlovable,
Always broken,
Always left out,
Always invisible,
Always boring,
And ugly,
And hurting.
Always empty and half-enough.
Nothing stabs me like the days
I’m given to try again,
the mornings I wake up on a mission
to face myself with love.
Discouragement always seems to remember its way,
stalking me until I want to surrender,
but still, I keep going.
Every day is an honest struggle,
but no matter how dark the clouds
Or how much my chest feels swallowed up in anguish,
I’ll keep writing
and hoping
and crying
and praying
and asking God the hurting questions.
I’ll keep believing that there are miracles inside my pain,
Scars that will shine with a beautiful, brave glory,
confident in their testimony that healing is real.

Leave a comment