Dear God,
I pray for the return of the person I was before they touched me, before they claimed me, before they broke me.
I pray that the fractured parts of them rise up and drag them into the mirror they’ve avoided, forcing them to face themselves, forcing them to reckon with the destruction they’ve caused.
I pray that every time words leave their mouth or drip from their fingertips, they echo with the cries of the hearts they shattered, hearts they ground into dust and scattered like nothing.
I pray that the chaos they nurture inside no longer gives them power, but poisons them instead…until they have no choice but to confront the mess they’ve become.
I pray the endless loop of trauma they’ve clung to finally snaps. That the tape tears, the reels jam, and the machine dies the moment they reach for it again. So they can no longer use their pain as permission to harm or lure anyone else.
I pray that whatever sickness rots inside of them, whatever wound they’ve chosen to nurture instead of heal, dies a slow, merciless death. And when it does, may it release them completely, so they can never again use their brokenness as a weapon against someone who only wanted to love them whole.
I pray that the love they chase finally reaches them. May it be so piercing, so honest, that their soul refuses to let them poison it the way they poisoned me. I pray that it consumes them and embraces them like their ancestral home they so desperately long for.
God, please protect those who stumble across them, even when they come in fragments, even when they disguise themselves as peace while carrying only pieces.
May their hearts be shielded from the shards they carry, so they do not bleed as I bled. May their love not be tested against their chaos the way mine was.
And God, may the day come when they can no longer wound others in the same ways they wounded me, because their hands will finally know what it feels like to cradle, not to crush.
Amen.
