“Gentle reader, may you never feel what I then felt! May your eyes never shed such stormy, scalding, heart-wrung tears as poured from mine. May you never appeal to Heaven in prayers so hopeless and so agised as in that hour left my lips: for never may you, like me, dread to be the instrument of evil to what you wholly love.”

Charlotte Bronte, Jane Eyre


Things have happened to me that have shattered and consumed me.

But like precious metal I have been purified, tried and tested.

Like pottery, I’ve been moulded and intricately carved, woven with gold and laquered with hope.

Like the phoenix, the ashes that were meant to bury me were just a nest from which I rise.

The beauty in humanity is our endurance for pain and what is created from it.

We are cruel creatures.
And when faced with the duality if our nature
Someone I thought I
shattered me
With the casual assumption
that I knew what was happening
And I was okay with it.


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