Letter to my sister, to my friend.

I see you. 
I see your hurt. Your frustration. The overwhelming feeling of being stuck. The lack of progression. The fear that your life, as you know it, will always be the same entwined with the fear that it will change. 
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I've been there. 

I know what it feels like to see all the unfairness. It flares blue and pink like a baby flame. 
Then a burning. A smoldering. It doesn't take much for it to turn into a fiery blaze you can't control. Flames on top of flames. Spitting and licking and burning up all the blessings you know you should be grateful for. 

I know what it feels like to be hurt, and to have those who hurt you never even consider apologizing. Listen to them lecture you about being offended, about letting go. To watch them do the same ignorant and hurtful things over and over and over again. For years. 

I know what it feels like to be so alone in your grief. The grief of disappointed hopes. The grief of losing the people you thought they were. The grief of witnessing your children's confusion and tears. The grief in trying to explain the inexplicable.  The grief in finally seeing the truth: That we are all just human. 

I know. 

It hurts. Deeply. And no, it isn't fair. Yes, it's scary. 

But we are strong, sister. 

I still fall into the flames. The hurt, the grief. The frustration. But now I try to float above the smoke. Let the air swallow it all before I inhale it. Before I let it smolder and burn. 

I hope someday you can join me. Up here above the smoke. I hope you can join me in believing that you are enough. I hope you can understand that you are the change you're searching for. I hope you can free yourself from the need of their love, the need to explain, the need of equality, and watch as the unfairness and hurt and frustration turn to ash. And all that is left to see is the love. 

I hope someday the fire dies out and we can settle our feet back down in the soil together. Watch as the tender green blades of love push their way up. And with relief, feel the solid earthy assurance that we are all just human. 

Maybe we will be able to rejoice in that truth rather than grieve for how it could have been. And maybe, just maybe, we can let the love we see swallow up the rest, smother the hurt filled flames. 

I see you and I know. So when your words burn and are unfair and lack understanding, I'll forgive you, sister.  

I'll let your words die out in the black smoke beneath me. Right where hateful words belong. And I'll wait for you. 

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