A poem of strength and honor.
I am sitting peaceful in the calm seas for now, but I remain wrestling in this- I feel nothing. It is a different emptiness. This is not hopelessness, it is hopeful healing, sitting stagnant.
Where was the good in abuse for over a decade as a child? Where was the good in watching my fiancée collapse from a cerebral hematoma and wake up out of a coma weeks later as though he was seven years old again? What was good about having bipolar disorder? I could keep going, but you get what I am saying. What was good about any of it? NOTHING!