I’m no stranger to tragedy or chaos coming in and ruining my life. It’s happened many times, but like a cat I keep landing on my feet. I keep getting up and trudging forward. What else do I have? What else can I do? Lay there and die? Well, yeah… but I suppose I’m too stubborn or too stupid to do that.
I can’t give a list of things that have come in and uprooted my life; there are just too many. Also, some of the things that brought me down may not be a problem for others, yet held the power to destroy me.
I can’t tell which hurts the most, because I still wear the scars and feel the pain from time to time. Scars are reminders of those battles, and I believe they hold within them part of the original pain.
I can’t tell which disasters were my fault or from which I was the victim. All left residual marks, all bore harsh consequences, and all required their pound of flesh.
All I can tell you is that I’m still here. I’m still alive. I’m still breathing. Though it’s hard sometimes to inhale and exhale, I am able to fill my lungs. Hope stirs for a better tomorrow. I can’t say anything about the day after.