This Is A Love Letter
"I'll stop. I don't need it .
"Yes, you do, Austin."
That should have been it. A profound profession of a lack of faith of character and a display of only surface level knowledge of who and what I am. Instead I crawled and grovelled, begging for the faintest glimmer of attention and rooting myself in an imaginary identity I had constructed for myself that was built ignorantly on the intrinsic belief that I was part of a whole.
Yet, an exercise in the futile reclamation of a fictitious construct of myself bore fruit in the realization of my makeup.
Time and time again, I have been beaten, crushed underfoot, and brought to my knees by the careless whims of fate. Many have doubted and left me for dead, lying gasping in the desert as my own blood pooled around me, crusting and coagulating in the sand. Each time, I have arisen, wiping my mouth in the face of adversity and continuing onwards. A new scar, a new callous, more armor to protect what I believed to be the soft internal self I carried cradled underneath. But this time there would be no callouses, no scarred flesh.
Gale force winds rend flesh from bone, exposing the internals to the elements. But what was revealed was no soft, tender core, but iron impervious to all but the most crushing jaws and most violent of storms. I had uncovered the true measure of myself through adversity.
I have come a long way in a short time. The doubt of others no longer a force undermining, but bricks used in the construction of a foundation.
This is a love letter to all those who have doubted me. This is a celebration of all those that thought I needed them. This is a toast made with a broad smile and clear eyes to those that thought me weak. I couldn't have done it without you.