For a broken girl. 

This is written for somebody in particular, but can apply to anybody who is struggling with mental illness. I hope you find refuge in this reassurance. 

You wear your disguise so beautifully, I often forget it’s a disguise at all. You’ve stitched it so close to your skin, it’s as if it’s a part of you. I can’t decide if you are hiding to protect yourself or others. I catch it in moments, when the facade slips, the fragments of a damaged mind shatter against the floor. And I want to run and hold the pieces together and stop you from feeling all this pain, but by the time I reach you, you’ve fixed it back in place, and I can’t help but think – perhaps I am just overreacting.

Sometimes, I swear I can hear your thoughts screaming. At the table, through a screen. The sharp words that you use against yourself slice through me and I wince, knowing how much pain they must cause you. In those moments, I want to shake your head and rinse the cruel words from your beautiful mind. But you remain silent, and I assume you prefer me to do the same.

I see it in the way you still determine your value by a number. 

I see your illness in the blade-less sharpeners, blade-less razors. I want to find every sharp object and flush it away, and hide anything that could ever harm you. But I know I wasn’t meant to see them, I know they weren’t meant for anybody but you. And that breaks my heart.

I see you fighting. I watch you face your biggest fears time and time again. I know your strength and bravery is greater than anything that tries to harm you, even if you can’t always. I know, with my entire heart, that you will not be beaten.

All my love.  

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