Slay bitch, slay…

I’m a fucking mess.
I make mistakes all the time.
I judge myself.
I feel guilty.
I feel like I’m not enough.
I feel undeserving. 
I’m a fucking mess.

And….
I’m also a fucking goddess.
I’m also a fucking warrior.
I’m also a fucking resilient fucking woman that will show up in the worst of fucking times.
I’m the one you can count on to show up on the front lines to battle the largest monsters when all hope seems lost.
I’m the fucking slayer of beasts when it seems impossible, when there seems to be nothing else to lose, when it feels like that all we have left is the breath in our lungs. 

Because what that breath holds is pure fucking will.
The will to muster up the last bit of optimism and release it with a swift strike of my sword. 
The will to use my last breath to scream a battle cry that will explode eardrums and stop mythical creatures in their tracks.
The kind of cry that will make them think twice about advancing. 

They will hear my cry, they will look in my eyes, and they will see.
I am not to be fucked with. 
Not without a fucking fight.
I am not to be fucked with.
Not unless you are ready to die. 
Not unless you are ready to go to the altar and be sacrificed to my deity, my goddess.
I am not to be fucked with.

They will see that behind my blue eyes lies a blue fire forged from love and joy,
They will see those eyes, and that light, reflected in the blade of my drawn weapon, and
They will see my spirit is unconquerable, 
They will see it lives in this universe regardless of whether this body does, and I will sacrifice this body to protect all that that is.

I am the warrior, walking tall and in her power towards an army of assassins. 
For the poor, the down trodden, for the children and the vulnerable, I stand tall and I press forward. 
I raise my sword with conviction no matter how tired, how bloodied, and how hopeless the battle seems. 
Because the poor, the down trodden, the children and the vulnerable NEED me, 
And my will, my power, my resiliency, can be counted on in those fucking times.

When it seems easier to retreat, I maintain the will of all the goddesses and gods to step the fuck up. 
When it seems easier to go below deck and weather the storm,
When it seems easier to curl up in a ball and hide under the covers,
When it seems easier to sit in a pile of self pity and loathing, 
THAT is when I RISE.

Like a phoenix. I rise from THAT place and I scream!
YOU CANNOT FUCKING HAVE ME! 
Fuck you! You cannot have me!!

From wherever that place is, I rise, I smear the ashes across my face, and don my war paint,
I grab my sword, and I sprint towards certain death. 
With purpose.
With certainty. 
With optimism. 

Optimism that one life can make a difference.
Optimism that one act can change the world.
Optimism that my messy, ash covered, furious sprint will inspire others to join me. 
Optimism that my battle cry, my certainty, my willingness to do what I must, will empower others to grab their weapons and run with me. 

And even when I finally drop to my knees,
When my arms have been torn from my body,
I will raise my head in honor.
And look that monster in the face.
Knowing I did all that I could. 

I will use my last breath to spit at that monster.
I will use my last heartbeat to fight for what is right. 
I will use my last thought to believe that all that I could do, I did. 

I will not cry. 
I will kneel in pride and contentment. 
My eyes will stare with the same conviction.
Fear may be present, but my indomitable courage is who I choose,
Not fear.

You cannot fucking have me. 

Because I am the warrior.
And I serve my goddess.