To love freely.

What must it be like to love and be loved freely? I imagine it to being the purest form of freedom. Something respected and treasured. Something a heart would be willing to go into battle for, without hesitation. To be totally alive and thriving within the soul of another. Being completely and utterly yourself without fear and abandonment constantly calling out like dictators in the background noise of your existence.

I can hear my soul, pounding against my ribs, begging for someone to let it out. To let it live. Yet, those born in cages believe being free to be a crime. What must it be like to open up, to live within the light and not trembling with uncertainty.

I want to scream at him. I want to throw my fists and watch him bleed. I want to see him in absolute devastating pain. I just want to be enough.

I thought I was getting past it. I thought I was healing and moving forward in a healthy way. Now I wonder, if thats even a possible reality or have I been tricking myself to survive today? Surely it must be.

Maybe I should start with being truthful. There is not a single day that goes by where I miss the kid. I know its because I never let myself get attached. I did not allow myself to love him. Especially after the day he chose him over me. After that day, it wasn’t even a possibility for me. I do, thank God every day for giving that child to people who will love him unconditionally and endlessly. For I know, it never could have been me.

I’m so sorry kid, this had nothing to do with you. You deserved people who would move heaven and earth for you. My battered and broken soul couldn’t do that. When you were with us, I tried to do everything to the best of my ability and I knew you deserved so much more than that. You deserved buckets up love and I could only offer little cup fulls. It does make me so happy to see you where you are now. I tried.

I wish he understood, that I fight every day to not listen to the voices that tell me to end it all and sometimes he makes it so much worse. He makes me think about open veins. He sends me to this place where its all blinding and the only thing my brain comprehends is that surely there is a way to never feel this way again.

Absolutely fracking dramatic.

They laugh when I make jokes about how I don’t want to die as much anymore. Sometimes I wish one would notice, it was never a joke.