To Thailand or to Russia? Towards my career or towards the desire to better myself?
I used to think I was tough, but then I realized I wasn’t. I was fragile and I wore thick fucking armor. And I hurt people so they couldn’t hurt me. And I thought that was what being tough was, but it isn’t.
Tough is going through hell and back, then walking through your front door and still helping your little brother with his creative writing homework. Tough is allowing yourself to fall in love even though you’ve been hurt so many times before. Tough is letting yourself cry once in awhile. It’s wearing pink and it’s and laughing at yourself. Tough is pushing through the pain. Tough is going to that funeral and being there for the ones you love, even if it makes you want to tear your heart apart. Tough is the difference between giving up and knowing when you’ve had enough. Tough is that tiny sliver of happiness that finds a way to make you smile, even when your entire body is begging you not to.
Thinking too much will eventually wear a hole in your mind, and life is much too short to remain bitter. Visceral minds will never know peace, and time is not temporary.
To anyone else who has been through hell, keep going. People who return from hell never talk about it, and nothing bothers them much after that. Put an end to your own personal pity party. Grab a drink, put on some lip stick and pull yourself together because you are better than the shit and the piss that the world throws at you and deserve to look the part. Stop letting people who do not have your best interests at heart into your life. Literally stop letting them into your space. Take that happy face you put on for the world and make it real. If someone breaks your heart, punch them in the face and go get ice cream. I mean it. And if you really want to kill yourself, kill the parts of yourself that you don’t like.
The only person who can make it all better, is you. But if you have trouble along the way, know that I am always here to listen.
Lena and Emerald