I know we don’t know each other that well,
not at all even,
but believe me when I say I know that blood-curdle-cry you’ve been smearing yourself with.
I know a thing or two about self-hate.
I know that when every criticism I had sprung up and with southern drawl lashed out,
“don’t it just suck, don’t it just suck so much bein’ you?
what, what, what would it be like to forget?”
I got to shaking and mewling–
I had me dead to rights.
I wanted to forget,
and all the dream-dreary quotes of Hamlet that inspires.
it’s a hard fight.
anyone who tells you different is a liar.
but it isn’t a fight won with others holding your sword,
or even on the battle field.
they can train you,
they can watch,
but you won’t ever see them when you need them.
you don’t need them.
you’re fighting you,
you can win this.
if medicine helps, use it,
if it don’t, don’t,
if therapy helps, use it,
if it don’t, don’t,
but it’s you against you.
you are the only ally you have.
people will leave,
they won’t understand,
fuck ‘em.
you don’t need them.
as long as you don’t give up,
eventually you’ll win.
it’ll be long,
and it’ll suck,
but that’s the game we’re playing.
you may be alone,
but you’ve got deep-hid parts of you unseen yet,
strength of giants,
words of poets,
strokes of artists,
sight of prophets,
find them in you,
there’s beauty in everyone,
and you may not feel it, but you’re no exception.
keep fighting,
you’re an army of one.
