i forgive, i forgive, i forgive.

mostly i feel really weak. and i write in run-on sentences to say something that isn't worth much reading.

but also i feel strong. i think maybe this is how a little boy feels the first time he sees his own blood spill.

pain and courage.

this is the stuff that pours out when i'm ripped open.

and, i'm discovering in the midst of tearing wretchedness, the ability to still love myself. the ability to say i'm going to be okay, i'm going to be okay, i'm going to be okay.

today, i walked down the street and touched my heart and said, i forgive, i forgive, i forgive.