I sit on our bed, that I share with my mom, wondering how this should be done. Wondering if I should just overdose on my pills, or shoot myself with a gun.
My mind wanders to all my struggles and trials. How I’ve been rejected, like a pair of shoes that is out of style. I think about my mom, and us not having a place to stay, and how people keep saying, “God will make a way.”
I wonder how my father’s doing, with his new wife and how he lied, when he said he’d always be in my life.
I begin to release a river of endless, heavy tears. Realizing how my life has gone downhill over the years. My mom asks if everything is OK and is anything wrong. I begin to pour out my feelings, that I’ve been holding in for so long. She tells me to hold on and begins to pray. From that day forward she shows me, that God can
make a way. Now, years later, I sit here thinking of my former drought, and remember when I thought there was no way out.
(This is dedicated to all of my survivors out there. Please know that it gets better & it‘ll all work for the good.)