I've always been a dreamer, came by it quite naturally you might say if you knew me best. Most of my life has been spent in my head, in loftier, happier places than most mortal men dwell. And although I knew instinctively the world was a dark, ugly place, I kept myself above it by force of sheer will.
For most of my life, I have enjoyed the happy fruits of a loving family and the promise of kindness. I believed with sheer determination that people wouldn't hurt me, that bad things would happen in due course. But never did I assume they would happen to me. The curse of dreamers like me, is we forget, quite by accident, that we, too are a part of this dark, ugly world.
I've experienced death through my family, but this past year, losing two lives that weren't quite formed, not quite ready, was so much worse. There are no words and there is no expression, to describe this loss. No way to tell you how it chews you up inside and leaves you empty instead. I thought I was strong and tough, like all naive girls do, until I lost two pieces of myself.
Like all dreamers, I don't give up easily and with each loss I learn a different kind of strength. I learn how to not give into despair. I remind myself of truths I already knew instinctively, deep down. That this world is broken and inexplicably cruel, but the One who made it knows better still. By faith I find hope that one day, I can find that childlike peace and happiness. Maybe, just maybe, I too may promise kindness and hold on even tighter to love.