It really is amazing how some of us survived our childhoods. And it's abso - fucking- lutely true that what doesn't kill us, makes us stronger...which really means what didn't destroy our souls only strengthened our spirits. death is being alive and walking around in darkness, bringing nothing but darkness to others.
My own darkness: horrible lights and music. Off the shoulder halter tops worn by mothers who sit and smoke pot with their sixteen year old daughters. Daughters who end up having sex with their mother's boyfriends. It's cool to sit and smoke with them when you're thirteen. You can swear and talk about sex and drugs and not follow any moral code. No rules. One cool mom. One sleazy boyfriend and one very, very frightened sixteen year old. Thirteen year olds who get to leave and go back to their single parent households where their mothers are not home. You sit and smoke and blast Rick Springfield out the window and hang out with Dave down the street because all of you have a crush on him, despite the fact that he's an alcoholic.
You move away and become good again, but your sister is smoking and drinking and doing drugs. She's always bringing her friends around with cases of beer. You don't want to be ridiculed, so you grab a beer...you hate it, but force yourself to drink anyway. Your choice of drink had always been liquor, but you were away from those you drank. Here you are again. Mother even less. Alcoholic neighbor who is twenty- eight is making the moves on you in your room. You remind him that you are fourteen and a friend.
maybe fifteen will be better...ha!
Whatever. There are stories out there way worse. It doesn't mean anything. If you are here, not on drugs, drunk or married to any of the above, that's a strengthened spirit. If you have a strengthened spirit, then the only thing that you can do is laugh and say "I can't believe I survived that!" and move on. Move on.
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