to love yourself through the darkness is to plant gardens in the night

To love yourself through the darkness is to plant gardens in the night. To kneel in dirt, hands-deep in soil. Who’s doing it with you? No one. Who’s watching you? No one. Who’s cheering you on? Often, no one. There’s no light to guide you. Just you and your breath, and the almost nearly. It takes energy/faith/healthy delusion.

Sometimes, I wonder who else is out in the dark, planting seeds no one can see. Many of my people are fed up and tired of searching for light, which they’re not even sure exists. They’re pivoting out of systems that no longer fit their morphing ambitions, breaking away from moulds that have kept them small. It’s liberating, but God,

ain’t it lonely?

There are nights when I wonder if anything will grow at all. I’m often tempted to hide away until I’ve unlocked a version of myself I deem worthy,