The Price Remains

She sat in bed, coffee in hand, wondering what lied ahead

Her will still intact, though she wondered how she was able to maintain the internal pact

Life as beautiful as it could be had also left a trail of painful moments, some of which she was charged a hefty fee

The fee was not one she’d asked for—she had been charged without her consent several times upon many, and as a result, the fees continued even though she was the one with the stolen venue

And as it was stolen, part of her sense of self went with it, now leaving her with several venues returned to navigate—many she had to unknowingly endure, while others only part of her could show up for

They’d torn her soul without her permission—not that anyone would ever grant such permission—and she’d be the one to sacrifice with the layers of fees she had to reconcile and recover over years upon years at a time

Over days that became months that became years, the venues again became one, albeit through a painful journey she navigated and eventually won

Many days throughout her journey, it required conscious choice to remain—a choice she did not make in vain

And through that looking glass she was unwillingly gifted, she understood why many might choose for the pain to be lifted by any means accessible to them in a moment—a split second for it all to go away for a permanent release or for the cut to be just deep enough to feel something different or something at all in the midst of a dark and often misunderstood affair

Still, through all the darkness, unfiltered pain, and excrutiating grief, she held on to the notion of temporary and transient states with eventual, though sometimes minimal, relief—inevitably, and always, the light of truth, knowing, courage, and strength allowed her to endure and enter, so the darkness holding the pain and the grief could lift

In that moment, though, as she sat her coffee cup on her nightstand, she realized that the price she paid for what was stolen will, when she wakes up tomorrow, still remain