years ago i thought that it meant bringing the LIGHT to the hearts of people, to be strong for everyone, to guide others with my experience. oh, so naïve.
today i know (but what could i possibly know if i’m no God?) that being a warrior is, in the first place, fighting your own battles.
And, perhaps, not always winning.
Sometimes crying in the middle of the night counts as being a warrior.
Sometimes going to see a doctor when you really need it counts as being a warrior.
Sometimes not doing anything counts as being a warrior, because you’re so doomed, so tired, so craving to fade away and never wake up. My body is gross, my flesh is rotting, but i still wanna see the light.
i live in consistent sorrow about being me, being just who i am. i’ve wanted so much, and i’ve had so little. Sometimes being a warrior is a woe because you can’t be EVERYWHERE doing EVERYTHING at every moment of time. Oh dear, i crave so much being everyone at each moment of time.
but i am
and i am
just me.
But maybe,
being me also counts as being a warrior.
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