The world may be filled with all different kinds of monsters, but the ones that are the hardest to face are the ones that were born in our own homes.

There are some battles that are not ours to fight, but because we live within the war zone, we are just casual damage, caught in the crossfire. Whether it be from a stray bullet that missed its target, or a piece of glass from a shattered picture frame, the wounds are still there, and the damage done cannot always been seen, but is always noticed by those who know how to see, not just look.

I know what it’s like to live under a roof that may not always seem like home, where the roles of parent and child switch, and you no longer know your place, or the lines that have been drawn, when a fight you cannot stop, but hear from your locked bedroom door, goes on and on until the morning comes. I know how it feels when you feel like time has just stilled and slowed for the pleasure of your pain as you blast the volume on your earphones up, and no Breaking Benjamin or Green Day song can block out the heartache behind your door…When the covers aren’t enough to shield your mind from all the questions swarming inside your head:

Should I call 911…

Am I a bad daughter or son…

What did I do wrong…

What should I do…

Do I stop them or hide…

Will I be next..

What happened…Why did the screaming suddenly stop?

And of course, the most important question that may never have an answer:

..When will it end?

I want you to know that none of those questions are for you to answer, because it is not a battle you have to fight. You may live in the war zone, but you don’t have to be another causality stuck in the trenches, while the monsters spitting fire outside your door fight a war that isn’t yours.

There is more to life than living on the safe side, and I want you to know that it’s okay to care; to want to help when help is needed, but there will be a time when you need to understand when it’s time to walk away and put down your weapons. You need to understand that you are not a casualty of what has happened around you, but how you overcame it. You do not have to let their problems and their war become yours, no matter how much you wish you could end it for them.

You may live on their battlegrounds, but you don’t have to become it. There is strength in surviving through someone else’s pain, and the making of a gift not everyone has:

Empathy.

Not everyone can feel someone else’s suffering or understand their hardships, especially if they haven’t faced any of their own.

But now you do.

Now, you have the ability to read and sympathize with another person’s heart because your own past gave you a bigger one. You know what it’s like to watch someone fall, what it’s like to be kicked while you’re down, so you know what to do when someone needs a friend to listen to, or you see the signs of heartache and pain when the sky of the world becomes too difficult for them to carry, because not everyone can be Atlas, and not everyone is strong enough to carry such a burdening weight for so long, before losing themselves in a strain. You have a special kind of vision that requires more seeing than looking, and that is not something everyone in the world can do. You are able to put yourself in someone else’s shoes, and see the tears behind a practiced happy smile, and hear the silent sobs from a person’s mastered joyous laugh. You know a good mask when you see one, because you’ve learned to make the exact same one after you walking away from a floor covered in glass and broken picture frames, and out the front door.

Now, you know you are more than the broken glass and shattered memories on the picture frames that lay behind you, you are stronger despite them; you are stronger despite what you witnessed. It’s okay if you’ve changed in the process, because not everyone can come out of such a life without a few scars, especially if not all of them can be seen. You are more than just the little girl or boy who sat behind their bedroom door, or hid underneath their covers, hoping for the sun to come. You are a light that shone through the dark; you are the sun, made up of rays of bright yellow, red, and orange. You are not just made up of the midnight prayers, or the 4 a.m. tears, or the lonely loud music that blasted through your earphones, but of the smiles you put on despite the urge to cry; despite the urge to break.

Now, when you look in the mirror, you don’t see a weak child anymore.

You see a young woman or man, who has grown wiser beyond their years.

You see the strength that grew from what you overcame.

Most importantly, you see that you outlived the little kid behind the door, and followed the brave one who is still walking out that front door.