‘To be strong; to have that sort of inner strength, can be one’s own personal torture.
Choosing to keep going, because deep down you know you can handle the chaos inside.
It didn’t take long for some around me to break. They chose falling apart quickly for they had not yet been forced to endure great loads at once. The burden was too much. I’d been there a year already. The darkness, the mold, the thirst that never gets a chance to be quenched; I was used to that.
Every now and then though, a day would come along and I would feel like breaking. It would become too much. Still, I would remain strong. The younger ones had come to look to me as a leader, someone to encourage them through such pain. I no longer felt like I had the luxury to break down. I was more than happy to be a source of hope, but my soul was not, nor is it ever perfect and whole.
Silently I chose to crack. An inch here, a seam there. Never losing it all at once and never around others. I wasn’t raised to be someone who feels superior or more equipped to handle struggles. I still question why I chose solitude over letting them see and help me pick up pieces of myself in those moments. Why my strength felt like more of a burden to my back than wind to my sails.
For even the strong have weakness and need a hand to help them. Some say true strength lies in numbers. I’ve watched this truth unfold before my very eyes and I’ve witnessed the beauty in fighting alongside another.
Still…every now and then, strength infects my mind. A darkness clouds my head. I need only let the cracks show and look to the Light, but I tarry; leaving myself to my own methods of self destructive habits. Watching as my strength withers and I am left with only cold vulnerability.’