I was reading your blog. Devouring every word. I felt like words had been finally found for what I feel and cannot say. Until I got to this one poem. "survival is a roast you have to keep on carving and carving" I take this literally. And I can relate. My grandfather kept coming back to my room.

I want you to know that I hope you will always survive, and you spoke in the past tense when you said “kept,” so I hope he doesn’t come to your room anymore.

I hope that so terribly. And I hope you just keep carving away at survival; I want you to be okay.

But nothing he did can ruin you; he can’t steal your worth and hide it or lock it up. It’s still there. You’re still you and what he did will never, ever define you. I hope things are better now. <3

For the last anon; I so helplessly agree with your answer. I hope everything gets better soon for you, darling anon. Nothing that has happened in the past doesn’t define who you are or your worth.

-From another anon

to that last anon who wrote about her grandfather- things can get better, I promise. for me it was my brother, and i know how it feels. If you need someone to talk to, please talk to me.

-From www.blistered-souls.tumblr.com