"You're going to be okay."
He's not really sure when but that's what he tells himself everyday.
Every morning when he wakes up. Every night before he falls asleep.
He does this like a ritual and slowly, he feels the
blades of reality pain him a little less every day.
And in that particular tick of the clock,
for the first time in what seemed like forever,
every word touched his heart; every word came to life; every word felt real.
His lips formed the biggest smile he hasn't seen in a long time
in the realization that his feet have finally reached the end of the long and dark and lonely tunnel.
The bruise and wounds and stitches were all healed by the aesculapian hands of time.
Before he stepped out, he looked back and as if talking to another person, he patted his left shoulder and thanked himself for not giving up. Because all the things that happened in that long and dark and lonely tunnel
were nothing compared to what he found at the end.
He found himself.
And that made the journey
all worth it.