You have permission to grieve. You have permission to cry until you’re held afloat by your own ocean. You can do whatever you need to do to feel through the hard things. Just promise me that at the end of your stormy night, you’ll swim to shore.
No matter how dark the road gets, no matter how lonely, promise me this: that you will choose life, over and over again.
That in the face of a thousand setting suns, you will have courage to hold out through the night to witness a thousand more rising.
That on the days nobody tells you’re loved, you’re beautiful, that you’re here for a reason ~ you shine a light within and know your own worth without anyone validating it.
That on the days the dark voice in your head labels you shameful, useless, hopeless ~ you remember that there’s no shame in asking for help, and you will yourself to summon an army and fight back.
That on your loneliest days, no matter how invisible you feel ~ you won’t disappear forever.
Because forever is irreversible, but your pain is a passing storm on the winds of change. Life is the gift you arrive at when you open your eyes to the flowers that could not have bloomed without the rain.
So promise me that the next time you dig into the earth it won’t be to lay your own grave, but to plant the seeds of new beginning.
Promise me that you won’t mistake an end of a chapter for the end of the story. Promise me that instead of setting fire to the rest of the pages, you’ll turn to them with open arms.
Over and over again, promise me that you will choose life.