subject line: today will be different.

 
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New Hampshire

Last week, I sent an email. The surge of uneasiness washing over me, as I gathered my utmost courage to hit the send button. It took so much out of me to type something that could never be traced, that would never be more than an anonymous letter of uncertainty. I thought I was looking for an answer, the question, tangled in the depths of my being. I thought I was looking for a sign. But, when my email was published, my words inscribed upon these pages for a community of broken humans to read, I realized I was looking for something else. I realized I was looking for a reason to be afraid, a reason to tell myself it wouldn’t work.

You see, I’ve spent my whole life drowning in a pail of empty sorrows. “I am lonely,” I write, day after day, yet all that I am remains hidden within the canopy of this crooked facade. “I am afraid,” I whisper into the darkness of midnight nightmares, yet I forget that I may fall upon my God, His arms perfectly renewing. “I’m dispensable,” I murmur, when I can’t get my shit together, yet I pour myself upon the broken, hoping they may feel as though they’re worth it.

It’s okay if you’re looking for a sign, but I’ve realized that even if all the stars in the universe align in your favor, you’re still going to have to put in the work. You’re still going to have to live your life with an abounding grace, an abounding love. You’re still going to have to be the one to open your weary heart. You’re still going to have to be the one who says, with every bit of bravery your quaking soul can muster, “Yes, I can, today will be different.”