"If you're going through hell, keep on going."


I remember cracking my head open as a child. One of my earliest memories. I was wearing a rad jean jacket, and some osh-kosh-b-gosh overalls. It was a Tuesday and a friend of mine had come over before afternoon kindergarten. We were on an old, rusty seesaw swing in my back yard. I remember her facing me and tempting the idea of going higher and higher. This, of course, was not a problem for me. Even when the entire set began to shake and lean, I still felt like there was no stopping my desire to touch the sky. It was only when I decided to put my head out in reach of the side beams that I got a rude awakening: trying too hard can hurt. I remember falling, back-first off the swing, landing and having that automated confused crying reflex most children have. I was a tough little guy, but when I felt my own blood for the first time, that just simply exceeded my pain experience. My mother rushed outside immediately. I think she watched the entire thing happen from the kitchen window like a car accident. She picked me up, put a towel over my forehead and rushed me to the old hatchback Taurus. As I got in the passenger side, with tears and blood slowly soaking into my jacket, I slammed my right hand in the car door.

From that day on, we labeled that jean jacket as 'the unlucky jacket'. I don't remember what happened to it, but I'm pretty sure the doctor sewed me up with its threads. Embedding that luck into my skin so that, later on in life, I would always be able to find a more painful experience.

What I've learned since is that flesh wounds hurt. Shattering knuckles, braking your nose, slitting your wrists. But some of the worst wounds... are the ones no one else can see. The ones that are invisible to the naked eye. Sometimes, even to yourself.

Today I am hurting. And I'm not bleeding or sore from lifting or burnt. I'm not worried about money. I'm not low on food. I'm seemingly in the same condition I was yesterday. But today... my insides are in need of being picked up. I feel like I'm missing something I never had. Like there's acid in place of where my heart should be.

It is that time of year though. Some days, I think I've healed most of those wounds. The ones of being cheated on or cheated out of love or cheating yourself into thinking you're in love. Looking back, they mostly seem remedial. Prerequisites for where I am. But right now, I'm feeling the short comings of my growth.

I haven't healed. I am still broken. I am still hurting. I haven't made as much progress as I had hoped. I guess just because at times I can think back without tears- doesn't mean tomorrow I will. Tomorrow is today sooner than you think. And today fucking sucks.

I wish there was a breaker box for crying right about now. My eyes have shorted. And it all began with a simple look at a picture. Just one picture of something I never had, never will have and never can sent me into a whirlwind. My stitches have come undone. Currently internally bleeding. Quickly learning how to live half a life.

I want a hug.