Maybe I was wrong about myself.

All these years I have been treating myself as the damage after the fire

but I’m starting to realize I am the flame.

My love letters to myself 

have become more than just suicide notes

I never got brave enough to sign off on. 

 

I am working through the things I thought would kill me 

and slowly realizing I am not the damsel in distress of this story. 

 

 

I’ve been watering a garden I thought of as barren for so long 

but lord it’s finally  been growing.

 

Killing myself has always been an option 

but thank God it’s no longer 

the only one I can see.