life
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What are you most proud of? That I don’t see life as a miserable, gruelling concept. That I don’t see life as something forced onto me. That I still manage to find the light, the crack in the sidewalk to sprout from. How, even through convoluted grief and anger at years lost to trauma and heartbreaks of
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Before I turned 18, I might as well have not existed. My teenaged years were a stale, stagnant fog. I was a stringed puppet, a shell of the raw, confident aura teenagers possess. I was puppeteered by my parents, and with glee-I knew no better but to impress them dutifully. My days were filled with
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my hands,from which i divine with.to caress a glossy deckand trust that they know when to pull a sword or a cup. palms up in my lap during quiet morning musings, to invite stillness and knowing into my days.
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Hope courses through my veins,but one nick and it empties onto my skin.
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To step into myself is uncharted territory. To feel safe is an unread part of the story.
Lashanda Forsberg 