There was a point in time where I could have so very easily described myself a walking wound. Not one great gaping display of Fractured Psyche, perforated organs and rendered flesh, but instead an amalgamated mass of well deserved, foolishly created, blindsided produced, and Machiavellian worthy self inflicted.
That time has passed.
I could, by means of forced remembrance and careful comparing of scars, to gather some detail which being the most fresh and least faded, deduce when I was no longer, in need of such constant triage. Instead I can conclude that, after the application of a sensible amount of stoicism and fair enough amount of Pride, I am alright.
Not healed, in utter remission, as fit as a fiddle, ready to hit the field, simply…
I know so many analogies, and metaphors, that get regurgitated at these moments, I would quickly have the literary dry heaves……
My life Has been no Prize fight, this has been no Race of Champions.. I have been no ship in the storm.
But, I have been in a brawl, make no mistake, and as for of my time here, more of it I have been here than have I not been, Has been a race against Time itself, and there was no ship.. just the storm.
I got through It, that’s the point.. And the only thing that matters, Is Now I know I can take it..
I can take the hits.. I can suffer a wound or two.. it isn’t because I want to, or I am a glutton for punishment, or I cant fight back, or I have no esteem, to hold together myself, and let show.
I take the Hits because I can. I have earned the right to do that if needed, for those I love, I am willing to weather what others cannot, that’s what love is about. I have the wounds to prove it.
Love is worth the wounds, You will be alright.