As I sat in the garden and looked around, I saw the sun shining on these wooden walls of my house and I heard the birds chirping while they sat in the trees.
And suddenly I whispered to myself: “I have come so far…”

I have come from so far down…
The sky is blue but it does not make me feel blue. I have felt blue but the blue sky never reminds me of that. Sometimes the night does. Sometimes different things that suddenly catch my eye or ear do. Sometimes I look at my wrist and see the scars and I know that what I have gone through was real.

At the time that I truly felt down and depressed I hoped it was not real. I hoped that it was an angry dream that would disappear, just as the night disappears when the sun rises. Yet now, being well-recovered from it all, I am rather happy that it was real.

My scars make it real. My diary makes it real. My memories, emotion and the dark inspiration I have been able to collect from it make it real.

I am real. I am alive.

I am alive and this time I am not bleeding. Maybe I have a few bruises now and then, but that is okay. Bruises do not need stitches. I do not need stitches.

I am rather glad that I have written things down. I tried to explain how I felt in the many nights that I felt lost and confused. Sometimes, and I do not really know why I do it, I pick up my old diary and just start reading.

It always makes me realize how real it was for me back then. That crushing sadness, the desire of living being gone now and then, the lack of emotions and the secrets that pressed on my heart every day.

I am so happy to be alive. I would not want to have missed what I am experiencing now – how I am enjoying life and being alive.

Sometimes it makes me cry. I have no shame in admitting that I cry, but I used to. Crying was a sign of weakness, and I would never show anyone that I was weak. I was strong, heck, I am strong – even though I have had so many downs, even though I have cried and showed weakness, I am strong.

We can all be strong. If we love and respect each other, if we have the courage to share and the will to overcome, if we hold dear small things and look forward to days that will come. We are all strong.

Being strong does not equal that we cannot show weakness. I cry, and I fight. I survive and I start living.

The garden is much more to me than a place where I can look up to the blue sky. The garden is where my cats roam the grounds, the garden is where I harvest my tomatoes and give water to the apple tree.  The garden is where I sit on a sunny day which I long for as I stand in front of the window on a rainy day.

The garden is a place where I have always been able to go to. I have cried there and I have laughed. The garden has always been there and will always be there. Just as the sun will rise every day, and fall again every night. Just as I will rise and fall, for that is what life is. We have to endure some bad things now and then so we can enjoy all that is good, all the good that life gives to us.

As I sat in the garden and looked around, I saw that the sun was setting as an orange and pink sky was reflected in one of the windows of my wooden house. The birds were still chirping. I sat there all alone and smiled. I am content.

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