I wish I could tell you that you're going to survive this. But you won't.
Well... not all of you. You can't always walk out of your battles completely intact, we're much to fragile for that. Even the strongest of stones, that which has seen the universe and everything that came before us, eventually get carved out from storms. The gentle water keeps washing them clean, beating against the exterior, shaping something that only nature might create. You should know, even the softest things, like the drops of water that fall from the heavens, can wear out your heart and penetrate your thickest skin. You are not a stone after all. You are a human, with a soul, who protect the blood that runs through your veins, even subconsciously. Yes, the storm is coming at you, and you must fight it. But here is a universal truth: where there is an external battle, an internal one brews as well.
Look inside of you, tell me where you see the bruises. Tell me if you can still see your own heart. Tell me where the scars line your skin, moving like Van Gogh's Starry Night. You tell yourself it's okay, it's okay if your hands are stained red, it's only your own blood anyway. I'm sure people look at you, in broad daylight and give you a small smile, only to say "You'll get through this." And yes, you will get through this, but not all parts of you will survive it.
There's an Arabic saying, “You want to die? Then throw yourself into the sea and you’ll see yourself fighting to survive. You do not want to kill yourself, rather you want to kill something inside of you.” So in this way, you will cut away parts of yourself. You see, my beautiful child, the horrid truth is, that in order for you to survive, you will end up sacrificing other parts of yourself.
To this day, I can look in the mirror and tell you, that I can only see the parts of me I've killed to ensure other parts of me survive. Survival is messy, not all of you will make it, but you are greater than the sum of your parts. My love, the clock will keep ticking, and your heart will still keep beating. I'll tell you another secret: survival is overrated. We've destroyed the word. You see, soldiers come out of battle and we say, "my god, it's wonderful they survived." But if you look into their eyes, it'll tell you something different, it'll tell you that they did not survive. Too many parts of themselves had been lost, cut away, stolen. They got through it, but they did not survive.
It's a curse of having strong shoulders. It's pessimistic to say, but go on, meet me in the sea and I will take your hand and we will ensure that we get through it. I can't promise survival for all of you, but I promise that the best parts of you will make it through.
Like I said, survival is overrated.