I don’t know, it’s like I woke up one day,
looked at my hands and felt the ache in my feet
from being on them for so long each day,
and I realized that I didn’t need anyone to take care of me.

I could do it myself.

I looked in the mirror and ran my fingers over the glass.
Studied the face there, eyes piercing into mine,
looked at the dark circles forming there.
Scanned each plateau and sharp angle of my face,
and suddenly saw the warrior under there.

Found the warrior that fought for themselves,
because they found worth in their life.

Those eyes held galaxies in them, galaxies of fire.
They held the understanding that my life mattered,
no matter how many times I wanted to snuff it out.

How I felt, mattered.

For the first time in my life,
I understood what it meant to be alive,
what it meant to matter.

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