When they told you that your body is a temple they failed to mention that your skin is what keeps your haven safe. I can see inside of your window eyes and I can see that your so-called sanctuary is caving in. That the stones that once kept you safe, that once held you up when there was no trace of strength inside of you, are starting to collapse around your fragile body. You think that no one can see the pain inside of you, but I can see that what took you so long to build, what has now bruised your hands and left you to fight alone, is failing you now when you need its protection the most.

If it’s true what they said, that your body really is a temple that should be treated with the highest form of respect, than they must have never been through the great storm. The storm that came so suddenly but still has yet to pass, even when the skies have cleared and the sun has revealed itself to you. It’s still alive, still burning, still full of the energy that you have always envied since you first learnt of it’s true power. But I promise, you warrior that has seen struggles that not even the bravest of men could face, that what the great storm has left behind will someday dry up. Even if someday is months or years away, your skin; your shelter of protection will soon heal.

One day you will be able to start building yourself again. You will come out of this war with blood on your hands, but this time it won’t be your own. This time you will laugh in the presence of your own misfortune and you will thrive from their memories of the long and tiring journey that once seemed too impossible to complete. I promise you that one day you will be able to speak of the great storm without your eye like windows forming a monsoon of its own. I promise that one day you will look at your battle scars and you will be able to say with confidence that you survived. That in the end, you came out of the storm as a hero.

"A letter to your self-doubt," - Colleen Brown