They still speak, if we are brave enough to listen.
No amount of hardship and abuse can stop us from hearing their voices.
But how we react to our trauma can.
It hurts. It fucking hurts. And the voices tell us it doesn't have to be this way.
But we're scared. We're fucking terrified.
Something in us would rather the familiar agony of the darkness than the unknown peace of the light.
But still we have to try. And it gets harder when we do. And it hurts even more.
But everything we long for is on that other shore.
If we put our faith in the place from where the voices come, we will survive crossing that river.
We will be reborn.
And when we do, we will find ourselves back where we have started, and see it for the first time.
Trust me when I say it's worth it.
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