Credit: tinybuddha.com

I cannot tell you that it will not hurt

That the psychic pain will sear you

burn you to your very core

I cannot tell you that your body will become a wasteland

that you will look like a refugee from the worst of domestic wars

That you will feel like a starved prisoner

trapped in a situation for which you have no control

I cannot tell you that you will not worry

That every movement will be fraught with fear about your future

That you will be staring down that black hole of endless bills and debt

I cannot tell you that you will not be angry

Foaming and raging at the actions and constant manipulations of the other

That his need for control will feel like another constraint and strangulation

 

I can tell you that the pain will fold itself into the dark corners of your heart

That your body once again will be fertile ground

I can tell you that you will become a citizen of your own nation

a freed captive with a belly full of self-protecting ammunition

I can tell you that every advance will be fueled by your freedom

That the once endless abyss of scarcity will overflow with abundance

 I can tell you that your resentment will replaced by indifference 

that you will be the mistress of your own destiny

and the  queen of your own kingdom