ᴊᴜɴᴇ ᴛᴡᴇɴᴛʏ-sᴇᴠᴇɴᴛʜ

"And what's this one for?", the little girl with the wild girls asked jabbing her stubby finger at another lapel on her father's chest. With the question she looked up at him with her wide blue eyes. They'd been at this several minutes with the curious girl pointing out each part of his uniform to get an explanation of what each badge, each weapon, was, did, and meant.

"That says Negotiator," he explained which caused a perplexed look on his child's face. When she repeated it, butchering it's pronounciation like only a five year old could, he nodded. "What is that, Daddy?" She asked as she squirmed in his lap. "That means if there is someone out there who is about to do something dangerous, I'm the one they send in to try to stop him with words. We always try to use our words before we ever use any of our other tools." He explained pointing to his belt of said tools.

until those hours when the sun was down and the world was quiet. nights where the moon's pull threatened to break open those doors and send her thoughts spilling out. when the sun was up, she could smile. people could distract her, she could keep herself busy. she spent her days occupied so she had no time for thinking. nights did not allow for that. in those vulnerable minutes when she put her head on a pillow and hoped sleep would come, those were the moments her demons most liked to come out and play. especially this night.

she'd never really learned how to take care of herself, not properly any way. just shuffle things into those rooms. hope she forgot about them in time. no, she'd always been better at taking care of others. focusing her energy on making sure those she cared about were alright. it was funny, if she thought about it, all this advice she gave to others that she herself didn't follow. that she knew she didn't follow. things like it was okay not to be okay. that tears were therapeutic. that hurt helped you grow and breaks made you stronger.

she struggled to be broken, to appear as anything but strong. people used that word on her, and she openly said she hated it. inside she didn't feel strong at all. it was just a persona that she wanted people to see. this girl that nothing could get down. a girl who even in heart break, smiled.

crawling from her bed she went to her closet. in the back lay a drawing. she pulled it out. it once hung above her bed but it'd been too painful to see. a baby before life, the start of all things. the beginning and the end, for her. this piece of art that wrapped up so nicely so much of what was so damaged inside her. the truth of what she hid from the world in fear of them seeing her broken bits, the bits she'd tell anyone else made them beautiful. for her, they made her ugly.

you can't save anyone if you can't save yourself. advice she'd given not even that long ago. advice she knew was something she had to work on in her own self. but she'd never been one who knew how to ask for help, or admit weakness. how would she open all these doors, clean out these rooms some which had been filling up since the day she was brought into this world?

just breathe, all you have to do is breathe. more advice she'd given but not yet followed. that's where she'd start. she'd breathe.