I talk about the car-cash casually. That is not because I want to demote what it did to me. It’s a very serious incident.
I cope by turning everything into a positive. I take the bad and make it good.
However, I have coped with my trauma. Same goes with post-partum.
It was horrible. Very traumatic.
But life is too short to be afraid to say things. So I say them. Including the hardest things. I talk about hard topics. Not because I want sympathy.
I want everyone to understand I’m coming from a dark hole. I, myself, forget the path that got me here. But life is too short.
So I use a word a lot that I realize loses its meaning the more I say it. But the word truly does mean a lot.
I love you. I’m saying that because “love” is not a feeling to me. That’s why the Greek language has numerous different words for love.
But I was taught by my surroundings, especially my parents, to always say “ I love you.” To me, it means I would take a bullet for you.
I would die for you.
I say “I love you” because it could be the last thing you say to a person. To me, I know what love is. I try to show that I love you through various acts.
I can’t tell anyone what to do. That’s someone else’s job.
I don’t want to scare people away. Cause rebellion. Etc.
I am just going to do this. I love you.