They say, “what doesn’t kill you, makes you stronger.” I don’t agree. Some things that didn’t kill me came so close that they’re still damaging. They didn’t make me better. Some things made me worse. And can’t that be ok too? Can’t some things just break you? This whole fucking world wants you to believe that admitting defeat makes you weak. For God’s sake, bleed. And bleed openly. There can be pride in vulnerability. Honesty is maturity. And really, it’s the things that did kill me, that made me.
J. Raymond