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Strength
How are you so strong?
So many people wonder this about others. They look across a room to people who are laughing, holding themselves with confidence, saying all the right words at all the right times to charm their audiences into seeing the strength and only the strength. They look at themselves and feels everything wrong with them, everything they hate, everything others seem to have none of.
I'm not strong.
I'm weak and broken and contorted into a creature I am scared to look into the mirror and see. I hate seeing that smile plastered onto my face to hide everything buried inside. I feel despair and self-loathe. I can't be alone in a room with a sharp object for very long.
I have fake strength.
I know all the right words to say. I know exactly how to arrange the mask in order to hide every little piece of insecurity I keep deep in my heart. The higher I hold myself, the deeper my insecurities lie.
I have strength.
This strength is not my strength. This is a strength I borrowed, a strength lent to me in my dark. It's the strength that allows me to swallow my tears shed late at night and look up at the stars, knowing there's something greater waiting for me as long as I push through.
It is the strength of my savior.
It is the strength of the one true God. When I cry myself to sleep at night, He is the one I turn to, giving away all my pain. He is the one who takes the burden off my shoulders and lets me see the world in a new light. He is Jehovah, Messiah, Lord, and Savior.
He is my strength.
I am His strengthened.
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