I want the taste of coffee burned into my tongue so I sleep and wake without difference
I want my hands stained black and red and blue from inks flowing from pen points I hold to closely because I write with fury
I want my feet callused from running ad far from my body and life as they shall carry me
I want to drown in the sound of water crashing over my head to silence all the rest
I want my heart to know what the sun looks like without hatred or mourning but long for it each morning
You work so hard, just to end up at home crying yourself to sleep; remember you’re trying, you are moving mountains that have plagued you since you were young, and you’re trying so hard.
Keep fighting, fight until you have won. Fight until you have found your way home, until the sun comes back and your heart learns to love the mornings again.”