Before I go to sleep

Before I go to sleep,

I wanted to tell you: truth does not come like a hug when you need it most.

Before I go to sleep,

you need to know that truth cuts like the sharpest knife, seasoned with salt, coarse as the sea.

Before I go to sleep,

I must tell you: truth hurts, but it also heals.

Before I go to sleep,

I want you to know that truth can be two things at once, holding space for both, and perhaps more. It does not soothe every mind, but in time, it can be kind.

Before I go to sleep,

the truth you seek may not be that deep. It is not wrapped in the fanciest of gifts, with bows, ribbons, and confetti stuffed into presents—but it is present.

Before I go to sleep,

the truth lies in the things we keep.

Before I go to sleep,

when the truth is revealed, believe it. Don't unsee it.

Before I go to sleep,

the truth is out there. Seek it.