At the end of all things 

I am full of things to say but my heart is quiet and somber at the moment. I am sitting alone in the dusky light of my bedroom, counting heartbeats. How many do I have left? 

Last week, my youngest sister attempted suicide. I won’t go into detail because it is a sensitive matter. Physically, she’s okay but on the inside a war wages. This weekend I have to say goodbye to an older friend who is dying from cancer. She will pass at home with her family were she wants to be, most likely before Monday.

All of this death has me recounting the paths my life has branched into, how they have intertwined with others. Some roots grew deep and bloomed into beautiful parts of my life, others, painfully withered and turned to dusty memories that I keep in the darkness of the attic in my mind. It’s painful to think about even now, but those losses were necessary for me to grow in some way. I feel stronger then I ever have before and I don’t need to bash, hurt or hate anyone to love myself or feel validated.

I want to carve my name into the hearts of everyone one that I meet, light the dark places in this world. Not for selfish reasons but because I truly want to give as much love as I can.  In the end I want people to say that my soul was a lighthouse.

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