Dearest Kemunto,

I know that this season hurts. It hurts really badly. This season feels like an emptiness and heaviness at the same time. It feels so lonely. It feels haunting. It feels like your thoughts can’t and won’t give you peace. It feels like a hunger. It feels like you can’t even breathe. It feels like your muscles are weak. It feels sad. It feels like a lump lodged in your throat. It feels like a voice that keeps cracking. It feels like ugly loud cries at 3 am. It feels like sore eyes. It feels like tears that dried before they fell.

This season feels painful. It feels shameful. It feels embarrassing. It feels like you messed up. It feels like failure.

I know some days are better than others. Some days you go to work and mindlessly get work done. Some days can be productive. But on the worst days you find yourself in dirty sweatpants at 7.30 am standing before petite pharmacists with the prettiest of voices begging them for anything that will silence your thoughts for a couple of hours every night.

In this season you ache.
So badly.

You beg. You plead. You swear on your life that if you get one more chance to do it right you will not be the same person. You send message after message. You try to make phone call after phone call. You pray to a God asking for everything. You ask him for happiness. You ask for forgiveness. You ask Him to move hearts that seem as unshakeable as mountains. You ask Him to wake you up from this bad dream. You claim His promises that everything works out for good first thing every morning and claim to trust him. But at lunch time you are on your knees in a bathroom reading him your own list of demands because in this season you feel like you are being denied the one good thing that you know will end it all.

My dear in this season you break.

On the eleventh month in your twenty fourth year, you shatter. And those pieces still crack a little more and it feels like being broken is all you are capable of doing.
In this season he leaves with your heart and takes everything with him. He leaves with your appetite. He carries away your sleep. He packs away your sense of purpose and
belonging. He leaves you feeling like a stranger in your own skin. He takes his people who used to be your people. And you feel like an island. He carries away all your secrets and you feel naked. Exposed.

You forget everything about yourself. Including the good things. Especially the good things. You only feel like you know the flaws that drove him away. And you do not know if you will ever recover from sinking this low.

But Kemunto, At 2 am on a Sunday when you can't sleep and your pillow is soaked and you've re-watched everything on your laptop for the tenth time, he will leave but he will also take some things that needed to go.

In this season, he leaves with the curtains that kept you from seeing that there are people around you.
He leaves with the excuses you made for not reaching out to your soul sisters.
He leaves with the silence that blocked your throat and the loneliness will start to subside when you allow yourself a chance to be vulnerable and ask for help.
Kemunto dearest, he leaves but he creates a void that will be filled by angels that will remind you how to stand again.
He leaves and you finally start to become aware of your tribe.

My dearest girl, this is just a reminder from the other side that it's not over.
This is just the test.
God's light always shines brightest in the midst of your broken pieces.
And love still isn’t done finding you.
Be patient. This pain has a reason. This pain is far from over. But it will only be for a season.
In the mean time, do your time. Allow those walls to finally come tumbling down and allow yourself to re-discover that you are more loved than you think.
It will be over before you know it. Love will find you again and I promise you it will not leave.
Yours forever,
Future, Happier Kemunto.

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