Eighteen? Never. Twenty and Sixteen.
Twenty. It’s not a hard burden to bear.
But bent steel is never the same.
Be it from six years ago
or six days ago,
bent steel is never the same.
The fear from the robber’s machete…
The pain from my sister’s “actions” …
The fury from her lie…
The sorrow from leaving my old life…
I was close to caving in…
… “close to”.
I refused to weld,
I refused to drown,
for I am far stronger than those
who brag of their deadly habits.
Sixteen. You can never get
perfect results,
but you can still get a great repair.
The joy and knowledge from UTSA…
The joy and knowledge from UChicago…
The joy and knowledge from my new friend…
The joy and knowledge from cooking for my family…
I was crying…
crying because I had learned a valuable lesson.
Mathematically speaking, we can average out twenty and sixteen to get eighteen,
but a strong person doesn’t need averages.
A strong person takes whatever they’re given and makes the most of it.
Even now, I still learn from
my fear, pain, fury, and sorrow.
I look back at the year 2016 and think I am privileged to have had the year I did.