I wish I could tell you it will get easier
That the worst is behind you.
It won’t. It isn’t. Not yet.
There will be more…
Hundreds,
Thousands,
Dozens and dozens some days.

You will be scared.
Terrified. Lonely. Humiliated.
You’ll dig through, grabbing at breath,
Drowning in spit and blood.
And look up, ashamed to meet another’s eye.
You’ll hide for a while, hold them in,
But they’ll explode—too many to contain.

This is what you’ll be up against;
I knew you’d want to know.
You’ll fight well,
And you’ll fight poorly,
But you will never give up.
One day you’ll do something stupid
And end up in a coma.

But God will grant mercy.
Out of the darkness and fog
Discovery will come.
Of who you are
Of why you’re here.
You’ll find a different medicine,
But more than that, you’ll find peace.

You’re here for a reason, my dear.
Hold strong;
You’ll find it.