“If you saw me the way I see myself, you would understand why I feel like I shouldn’t be alive anymore.”
This is the thought that has been playing on repeat in my mind. As though my very breath speaks these words directly into my heart. Trapped by a phrase that is simply letters strung together to make words that somehow destroy the very essence of my being. Like a beautiful framed picture shattered by the desolate ground it falls on.
Do you see it?
Do you see my calloused heart that is entangled in the web of depression?
Do you see my void eyes that spill out hopeless tears?
Do you understand now?
The very image that stares back at me in every mirror I stand in front of screams at me that I am unworthy of the air I breathe. I am undeserving of the space I fill. I am helpless. I am hopeless. I am nothing.
Is this how you see me too?
I’d understand if it is.
Yet, the quietest whisper made its presence known. A peaceful voice that broke through the violent sounds of hatred. It gently grabbed my hand and breathed words so foreign to my own mind.
“You are worthy of being loved.”
Words that I am reminded of so often by other beautiful souls but my own heart struggles to find the courage to believe.
When the sun goes to sleep and the moon dances among the stars, the screams get louder and the whisper fades into the background. My heart tries to break free from the tendons that hold onto it so tight but gets more tangled in the process. My eyes so tired from the neverending pain that seems to find its home in my tears. The shattered picture still scattered across the ground in pieces threatening to steal the motivation that pushes me forward.
Yet, the whisper is still there.
But not obsolete.
This time it imitates my very thought.
“If you saw yourself the way I see you, you would understand why you are worthy of being loved.”