There will be the dark days. The days when the parts of yourself you can’t edit, must rise to the surface. There will be days when even you, creature of light, must find home in the shadows.

On these days, old wounds will surface. They will scream to be seen, to be heard. And you will let them. Because nobody else can put a time limit on healing. Because closure is a practical action, not a permanant solution. Because forgiveness is alien. And because there’s no such a thing as justice.

Hate will sustain you. Rage will keep you alive. It is nourishment, not weaponry. Because dark or not, don’t be a fool. There are consequences to every action, a price for every mood. Prudence never stops working.

In these times, find your healing. Find it in the raw, red layers of yourself after you scrub out the splinters of other people’s intentions. Build it in the hard scabs of knowing you only have yourself & you always have your own back. Remember it always in the scars of your unrelenting memory. Never forget, never forget, never forget.

The power of the darkness is that it is yours and yours alone. Yours are the lands so barren, no greedy fortune-seekers will plant their agenda there. Yours is a land so dark, nobody will wage war to put a flag in your mind or your body. You are the darkness so inky, it can stain everything. But you’re still alive, still moving through the desolation, relentless. And you know how to write.

Begin, artist.

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