These past two months have place me in a constant fight for survival. I honestly have been struggling to write.
If you know nothing else about me know that writing is the air I breathe. It is it is the lullaby to my anguish. It the 10 demional portal of my escape and my confrontation. It is who I was, who I will be and inherently who I am. For anything in this life to disrupt that would be me conceding to death by way of torture then violent execution.
I can not tell you how many times I've said to myself that I can get through something. I've lost count. What can tell you is that I got through it every single time. I wouldn't be here now had I not. I gather the pieces of myself daily. It wasn't until now that I'm able to knit healing words together. One by one, letter by letter and purpose by purpose.
I am not a bystander or witness to this life. I am filled with purpose and a sound mind. I am an extention peace long sought after. I am warrior not bound to anything that hinders my walk of enlightenment. I know whose I am. I will not allow anything to separate me from the truth. I cant. I won't. I will.not. I going to fight until it's realized that my position is unmoveable. Let the real writing begin.