intent versus impact

They lived a life believing that they were wrong. The way their brain was wired was wrong. The way their mind raced through patterns and behaviour was wrong. They lived their entire life thinking that there was a right way to fight for survival. 

And they were doing it wrong. 

They were failing. 

They stood among the wreckage time and time again - a garden that was burned down to the soil underneath their bruised and battered soul. They salvaged the roots and tried again. 

Until finally they found a voice to speak - only to the people they thought they could whisper to. The souls they believed would keep them safe. Only to one day be met with a sentence that echoes in their head for years to come. One that inadvertently works to reinforce everything they already believed. A voice that they trusted becomes the reminder that silences them for years to come. 

A reminder that they aren’t supposed to talk about the things that harmed them. There’s a right way to fight for survival. They were doing it wrong. 

They never learned the “right” way. 

So they fell in love with danger in silence again. 

They painted pretty things on top of dying soil. 

They laughed when their chest felt empty.

They made friends with the moon. 

They whispered their fears to the stars in the darkness. 

They feared they wouldn’t grow from the soil again. 

So they let people pull what might have been their last flowers. 

Because that’s all they thought they would ever know.