Sometimes Life Is Fucking Hard

Let me drop the brutal reality
Life is fucking hard sometimes.
You can’t tell someone with anxiety to just get over it.
Anxiety is fucking real.
You can’t tell someone suffering loss to just move on with their lives like everyone else.
Because a wound doesn’t heal if you don’t feel each corner of its pain entirely first.
No, you’re not too sensitive.
We care too much about graphics.
And too little about how our words destruct every nook and cranny of a person’s mind.
Empaths tend to find themselves stuck like magnets.
Giving selflessly to people who are only selfishly taking.
Don’t let people harden your heart, please.
Because you are so deliciously irreplaceable.
But it’s okay to be selfish with your energy.
Because not everyone is entitled to it.
I am a woman of love.
And I will love you harder.
If you pour your soul into my spine.
So I can carry it on my back.
And I too will allow you to break open my wings.
So we can fly – Together.
When the art of love was placed in the palm of our hands.
Why weren’t we told it wouldn’t last forever?
Because we’re foolish to believe it will.
But surely we’re more foolish not to take delight in it while we have it.
Toxic people don’t harm my spirit.
I’m a writer.
I don’t get angry.
I get content – to use in my work.
Thankyou.