Lumos | H.P

001✔

There was a time when I believed that humankind was actually what it implied - kind, caring, full of compassion. But the older I get, the more I find that the world is more difficult to understand than just the concept of one simple word that was supposed to be our sum. We are not always good or generous or thoughtful or considerate. We are a mix of heaven and hell, torn between the two spheres. I recognize the hate because it lives in me. I recognize the love because it lives in me. I recognize that we are all battling wars within ourselves, so how could there ever be peace on earth if we can't even bring peace to our own cells. Caged in torment by flesh and bone. Humankind? No, I don't think so. Just human.

We mistake healing for mending because that's all we want. To be stitched back together again and all that fragility shoved back safe in our chests. Yet, more often than not, to heal is to unravel and peel yourself apart delicately with grace and mercy while you pull the shrapnel out. It can take years, even a lifetime, but in this, I hope you learn that healing comes from practiced hands that have prepared when and where and how to touch. Hands that also understand the need for patience. Only in this process will you find love for who you were and respect for the one you will become.

Perhaps a day will come when this armor won't be necessary. When I'll be able to trust another soul that lingers around me. I hold out hope for such a wonder, but I don't expect it to arrive. I'm a warrior on my own and don't need someone else's help to survive. But perhaps a day will come when someone will kiss me on the forehead, tell me to rest this time because they have my back. And perhaps I won't be afraid to make my spine vulnerable to them.

More often than not, I feel alone. But its not because I want someone around. Rather, whether I am with others or not, I feel completely misunderstood. Like this world and this life and and my very skin do not comprehend the galaxies that burst behind my eyes and the realms of hope within.

There is something to be said about those who know to hold their tongue when their chest is hot with anger. There is wisdom in the silence, for a bitter heart will only speak harsh words.

There are times you want to bend, and Darling, bend for those you love. But never, and I mean never, allow someone to turn your spine into dust. Never give someone an apology for things that you have never done.

This was too much for you. Not that my life was some grandeur fantasy you could not live up to. No, I asked for depth, for your mind and your heart. I asked for curiosity and discovery. I asked for worlds beyond this. I asked for broader than the things we could ever hope to own. I asked for the building up of individuality, not the mortal home. And it was too much for you to be anything other than what you've come to know.

You can wrap all your barbed insults around me, string the wire if lies around my heart. I will bear your pain. I survive it because I know this has nothing to do with me. So go ahead and try to tear me down. My blood will rain, but you will drown.

Forgive yourself for not forgiving them yet. Sometimes the wounds are an open maw straight to the heart, and you struggle to stop the bleeding. You scream and curse through the mess because you have not managed to catch your breath. You still have not found a way to pause the flow of sorrow. We have all been there, darling, so cut yourself some slack. Forgive yourself for hurting so much that you have not found a way to let go.

I know they hurt you and you do not feel like you know what love is anymore, but I will tell you it was not that. If they loved you, they would have protected you. If they lived you there never would have been a choice. There would be no other option because love does not analyse or question or seek. Real love would see you and only you. That is why you hurt. Because there was no other choice when it came from your heart. Because it was them and only them. Do not forget the truth that lies heavy in your chest. Do not forget what real love is.

I hope you understand that none of this is your fault. You were backed into a corner. Life pushed you to your limits, and you did what needed to be done to ensure your own survival. The fact that you lost people because you weren't becoming what they wanted... They were part of the problem. They were threatening your life by demanding you live for them. They were the corners and ceiling and metal bars forcing you to bend. But I'm happy you chose yourself and broke through their desires. That you called for freedom or fire. That you stretched up and beyond Their shaking fists and grappling hands. That you did not stick around to suffocate another second. I hope you understand that anyone who saw your struggles and tears and couldn't understand that you needed to put yourself first, they had no place in your life. Those who love you will always give you the room you need to fly.

So let there be fire. Let it rage on in your soul. Let it be the hope that keeps your skies ablaze, and the heat that keeps your heart warm. Let it be the light that others follow and and the spirit for others to believe. Let your flame be a beacon that brings the world to its knees.

You don't know my story, and you don't have to. All you need to know is that i try every damn day to fight those darkest parts of myself. Some day's I succeed, but others, and growing far more consistent. I am consumed by the rage left on the screens, in the streets, and in the heart of every broken soul. And I am sorry for being just another human, just another damaged individual in a forever crumbling world.

My heart is raw. Tears have escaped on and off for days. How is hate so powerful that even those who witness the atrocities react with such violence towards their surroundings? I look around for examples of love and find few and far between. My heart is wounded, my soul is weak, and i pray God comes sooner rather than later because I don't know if I can live a lifetime of watching us destroy each other.

These pieces of you, of your heart, of times you'd rather not remember; wear them as your amour. Let the world see what you've endured. Wear this battered soul as a badge of honor, stand on shaky legs, and get ready for another hit. This world can be relentless, but damn it, so can we.

So, yeah. I guess I'm nothing special. But I'm still human. I've made mistakes, but who hasn't. This is my story, and from what I've learned, I can tell it however I want. Its not for anyone to judge. And the only person that can judge me, is me. So, yeah. This is my story. The story of how I survived, how I lived, through all the tough times, and ended up as me. This, is the story of me, of us, of Laicey Espinoza. The Light in the dark.