You always were a fighter, and a strong one at that. I remember the brave face you wore day in, day out. From the moment you reluctantly woke up to the moment you finally let yourself collapse from exhaustion, that face was your armor. Your shield. Bearing that burden gave you purpose. It was your mission to never let the pain show through, but at the end of the day it was merely a façade. We both know how heavy that mask was; how it dragged a permanent furl across your brow and carved dark shadows beneath your eyes as you strained to remain stoic.
"It gets easier." You heard it everyday. A mantra for the masses that's rooted in just enough truth to make them blind to the lie. The reward for carrying the weight of the world is always more weight. And when you've mastered that, what's a little more? You've proven you're strong enough to handle whatever life throws at you and now there's no way to stop the flood. The same bravery and strength that prevented you from saying enough is enough kept you rooted to the spot while the scouring torrents stripped everything else away. Your hopes, your dreams, your identity; your wants, your needs, your serenity; your heart, your soul, your humanity... all gone.
All that remained was your purpose. Your mission: never let the pain show through. It's all you are anymore. 𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘯𝘦𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘱𝘢𝘪𝘯, because you don't know who you are without it.
I see through your mask. You can't hide your emptiness from me. Hidden beneath the acrid spirits and tobacco smoke that cling to you like cologne is someone who yearns to be seen. To have their tremendous effort recognized and appreciated. 𝘐 𝘴𝘦𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶, my darling. You've fought for so long and you've come so far, but you're safe now. 𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘤𝘢𝘯 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘵.
Lay your head into my shoulder. Feel my arms wrap themselves around you and pull you in close. Allow my warmth to thaw the ice that has left you so frostbitten and numb. Breathe deeply and let my soothing perfume fill your lungs with amnesty. You are forgiven. You are safe. And you have my permission to slip away, held tight in my embrace. The war is over. You don't need to be strong anymore.
This was always our destiny. We were fated to find each other. The system was always going to shatter you, and I was always going to pick up the pieces. The question now becomes one of how I'm going to glue you back together, and I think I know just what you need.
Tell me... do you have a favourite colour? A favourite song? What does freedom mean to you? Do you like wearing your hair up or down? Have you ever named a plushie? I want to know everything about the one who hides behind the mask. I am going to weave it into every facet of your being. The tale of you will be laced into every incantation I utter over the ashes from which the new you will arise. The authentic you. The real you. And at long last, you will know peace.
So please, my darling; 𝘣𝘦 𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘭𝘭.
stormborns
2087
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