I don’t want to go there, those places inside that feel pain, those parts, the little girl abandoned, a crevice so deep I may get lost in it. But it’s only in going there, gathering the parts, feeling the pain, that the hole becomes whole. It’s all of me. All my pain, past and present is what makes up me.
Once I go, not run, and feel what there is, the parts come together as a magnet attracts metallic dust. I can stand alone. I am not alone. But I can stand alone and feel the strength of being me.