Rocks

Rocks. Sometimes you miss them, others times you’re not as fortunate. Sometimes it’s a scab, other times blood flows freely from a huge gash.

Who wants to bleed on the ground so they can then pick themselves up? Who wants to fall so they can then climb?

No one chooses to stumble on rocks. But if not for the rocks we wouldn’t have a battle scar. That wound that once bled is now a testament to your unwavering strength. That wound that once nearly paralysed you now stands witness to your triumphs.

Rocks don’t break you, they make you.

When you’re crying in pain and can barely move, climb. Climb atop that rock and shout to the world: I made it! Because you did.

The rock that tripped you is the rock that now stands beneath you, your foundation. Without it you couldn’t see the dazzling view spread before your eyes.

You need those rocks. You need that blood.

When excruciating pain threatens to drown you, grab hold of that rock and climb.

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