With Every Beat Of My Heart

I’m a walking, talking, breathing case of PTSD and that’s the truth. 

A survivor, a warrior… Sure. 

I’ve seen a lot, I’ve been through a lot, and that’s my story, my cross to bear. 

I do pretty well with it, I smile and I laugh and I love and I am loved. I can handle my problems, I can shine through my darkest days with energy and power. 

I fall.

I get up. 

I hurt.

I heal. 

What choice do I have? I can live or I can die, and I’ve chosen life. I choose life, every day. I choose to push through the brambles and emerge, bleeding but wiser, scarred but growing, I keep going. I will not stop, because I’m meant for more than where I’ve been, more than what happened to me. 

I’ve wept at gravesites and I’ve spoken at funerals about the moments of loss and grief, I’ve held a brand-new life in my hands and promised my lifelong devotion. I’ve been low and high, I’ve been bad and good, and I have suffered through trauma. I have experienced joy the likes of which most people only dream. I have lived this life regardless of obstacles, of disadvantages, I have lived and I will live and that is my choice. 

I am avoiding my point, because I am afraid of my feelings, this time. 

This time… I need the universe to throw me a bone, give me a break, let me have this one. Let me take this one home and keep it, let me win, this once. 

I won’t say what it is, but the stars and moon know my wish. 

I need this one. 

Please, whatever gods or cosmic powers there are, whatever design or designers exist, understand that I need this one. 

Please, hear me, hear me begging, with every heartbeat, hear me pleading for this one…

I need this one. 

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