Love and life is woven into the tapestry of my existence. I’ve died a hundred times trying to ignore and stifle the humming of my heart. I tell the truth and come to you with every wound, every secret I’ve kept hidden, every lie I’ve ever told. I come to you with sins and regrets, loss and memories and days where I’ve woken up with nothing and no one.
But those who are short sighted aren’t ready to read the best parts of me. I’ve had to champion my own story because I have no interest in being loved in bits and pieces, too much for some, not enough for others. My heart is not a home for the weak. I wear my scars while you hide yours.
So I’ve found a calm in the dead centre of my own storms, naked, wearing only my scars and a smile. There are days when I can barely breathe, where my muscles seem to atrophy and then I realise that there is not one single thing behind me, nor one single thing ahead of me, that is stronger than who I’ve grown into.
I’m more whiskey than water.