I don’t make crowns of plastic flowers.
I don’t cover up the void in my chest and quell the dull ache in my womb.
I sit in it.
I learned long ago that there is no rushing healing.
And that denying yourself the walks through dark halls and the sleepless nights, or even the times when you don’t get out of bed – I know that denying that is more destructive than faking a smile.
So I sit in my pain.
I burn in my pain.
I make a home in my hell.
Because diamonds are only made after a process of pressure.
And phoenixes only exist if there are ashes.
Stop denying yourself the mastery of your pain.
Live it. Own it. And pack it away in your chest.
To remind you of your resilience;