Thank you for the pain. Thank you for the hurt. Thank you for the tears. Thank you for the hardships.
I didn't think I was going to survive you. As soon as January rolled around I knew that what you had in store for me was gonna sting like hell. I braced for it, but I could never have been prepared for the beautiful way you knocked the wind out of me. I don't have enough fingers to count the number of times I had to pick up my shards after your seemingly endless days shattered the glass of psyche again and again and again. I look at the scars now and I smile. Yes, you hurt me in ways no one would dare to think 8,760 hours could, yet I smiled.
The anguish you reaked on me made me who I am today. I am stronger, my back is a little straighter, my face less round, my eyes are bright again. You took me to the presipice of the Devil's domain, but now, brows singed, in the glow of the new year, I feel the warmth of God's grace. I look at the scars now and I am reminded of the bravery I found through every anxiety-riddled sleepless night. I look at the scars now and I am reminded of the faith I found, buried deep, when you tried to make me believe that I had lost everything. I look at the scars now and I am proud of myself, of the way I have changed thanks to you, my own little purgatory.
You've humbled me. You've broken me. You've strengthened me. You've humiliated me. You've changed me.
Thank you for being my brief embrace with pain.
Cheers to 2018.
With all of my love,
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