I have suffered immeasurable losses. Sure, my losses can be quantified; their ratios rationalized to juxtapose the impressions left as scars. But the mass that weighs on my soul can not be scaled or justified.
Sometimes it feels like an endless battle, denied enough time to wipe the blood off our eyes before the bell rings. Perpetually caught in a whirlpool; digging and digging at the spiraling wall, never able to climb out.
The fortitude to fight such an absolute force seems futile. No matter how hard you paddle, you are just stuck in the same place, in the same current, still pulling you down the same path.
The brutal whirlwinds blind our eyes with swelling punches. We have no choice but to keep swinging in the dark; the thought of trusting the emptiness brings a feeling of vulnerability, leaves us open for attack.
Counter intuitively we continue to fight, connecting with our strength. Our struggles a testament to who we are and what…
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