Take a moment, breathe.
Yes, I am talking to you. I’m lifting your chin delicately with my fingers, begging you to see what I do. Look at me. Don’t bury that beautiful face in your chest. Do I have your attention? LOOK. AT. ME.
I need you to listen to me. These words are the most important words I’ve ever spoken. Although, I must confess I’ve been afraid to tell you this. I’ve worried the timing wasn’t right, the mood too dark. Your mind too full of anxiety, you’d be unable to accept this proclamation.
I can no longer hold back. I see you breaking. I feel you falling to your knees, sobbing uncontrollably. I recognize the evil messages you suffer while your internal voice controls and shreds you apart. I hear the thunderous tones of disdain you carry inside you. I taste the bitter salt you pour on your wounds.
Rinse off the dirt he left on your skin. Wash away the doubt he buried you in; this is not your resting place. He is not your grave.
I recognise he took your heart and peeled it from your chest. He stole your confidence but not your heart, dear girl.
Where I once saw your radiant light, he left darkness. Continually adding to your insecurities, he stole your natural beauty as if it was a feast made only for the devil. He played with the fire in your heart with hands made of ice. With every flicker of your flame, you blamed yourself for the lack of oxygen.
I feel your pain. I see flashes of melancholy when the sun hits your eyes just right. Lately, you are having trouble hiding it. It’s deeper than a glint in your eye. It causes your body to ache. Your mind to wonder, your soul to cry.
I know you saw the red flags, they were everywhere. That first time he twisted your thoughts so tight, your mind raced to all the doubt you carry with you. You knew you should leave. You could feel your spark dull. But, maybe, you could fix him. Show him you were good enough for love. His love. Any love.
However, with every discouraging confabulation he placed inside your thoughts, he began to eat you alive. He consumed every part of you. He was stealing your light, and you could feel it dimming, though he told you it was your fault. You made him angry; you made him do it. You were never good enough.
I know you believed him. I savoured each tear you’ve let drop to your cheek; I ate his words with you. He filled your belly with lies, and you gained the weight of his insecurities. With every pound of hurt, he placed on your hips you sunk deeper into his world. It wasn’t your fault; he picked you to feed off, and when your soul, nearly devoured, he blamed you for the mess you’d become.
Stop crying, girl. Wipe the tears from your eyes, hold your head up high. Wash away the stained perception of who you are, clear the fog from your mirrored reflection and look me in the eye. See through the marks he left on your heart. Incisions heal, some scars fade. Not all cuts were meant to consume you. Don’t blame yourself for falling into a hole filled with knives, especially when he was the one who pushed you into it.
I’ve been waiting to say this for so long. I think you are finally ready to hear this.
Somewhere deep inside that vulnerable heart is a lioness. The fighter, the warrior, she’s still within you. Bounded to the courage, you practice every time you smile with those soulful eyes. I promise you; she still lives here. No one can take away the brave you wield; no words are too heavy for you. You may have forgotten the power in your arms, or your ability to throw burning, meaningless attacks on your soul to the wolves. But I haven’t. I see your sword; even through the shield of armour, you hide behind.
You aren’t the colour he left on your skin, no, you are vibrant and strong. You must rise from the ashes he left inside your heart. It’s time to see your reflection for what it really is. He can’t colour you with lies any longer.
I know you didn’t mean to end up here. Lost. Frightened. What you believe is alone. You are not alone. I understand how hard you’ve worked, how tough it has been. I know you blame yourself.
Sweetie, look at me.
Lift your heavy head. Clear your conscience, release yourself from the hateful rhetoric he marked on your sumptuous mind, and reignite your flame. The embers are still there; you can feel them burning away at his hate. Just look in my eyes. I need you to believe we are good enough to get through this. We are braver than the deceit we once considered was our worth.
Wipe the steam from the mirror and truly look in my eyes.
Look at me. We are worthy of letting this pain go. We are worthy of love. We, sweet girl, are going to get through this.
I’ve been waiting for a long time to tell you this. But you knew that you were with me all along.