December 30th, 2017 → 5:52 am @ Lea // No Comments

“Anything that’s mended is but patched.” – Twelfth Night

I have always hated the platitude, “whatever doesn’t kill you makes you stronger.”  It is so patently untrue.  If you’re hit by a car and have surgery to your organs, those organs are forever compromised.  If you lose a parent when you are young, then you forever lose the bulwark of their protection, guidance, and aid.  If you are raped or otherwise abused, you forever-after harbor a fear in the depths of your soul; a crack, that with the right pressure, breaks open and ruins you at the most inconvenient times.  You may very well survive your injuries, and, if you are exceptionally lucky, survive without bitterness, but stronger?  Never.  To believe so is to live beneath a gossamer web of candied ridiculousness.  Injuries are patched, often colorfully, even artfully, but definitely patched, mended, bucked up, and held together with but thin layers of hope, prayer, and fortitude.  Here’s to my own mosaic wonderfulness!