Hope in a Place I Built Myself
I had sworn to never free fall — unless it was into hands ready to catch me. I hoped for those hands to be ready. I convinced myself I could mould them — nourish them to feel safe, to know how to hold on when they catch me. But all it did was leave me unnourished, stripped of a mental companion. These decisions left me parched for self-worth. The choice to nourish and mould only reminded me that love can still be not ready — not ready to hold, or never able to hold the kind of love that I hold. Not ready to learn, or not meant to be taught how. Not ready to withstand the storm of regret that comes from embarking on such a journey. And still — we decide. Decisions are hardly made from a place of knowing — they're born of hope. Hope that maybe this is it, while staying open to the fact that it might not be. Hope that maybe it could become something, while knowing it might become the very thing that separates us. Some things you must experience to understand. Some lessons you can avoi...