I was going through old backup CDs on the computer and found a file simply called “08212004.txt”. I don’t remember actually writing the poem but it’s definitely mine. It has no title:
I am a burning force,
an explosion of furious, blinding light.
I am a raging blue firestorm.
I am a cold steel frame.
I cannot see.
I am crusted over.
Hardened. Small. Crunched and cracked.
It’s clear to me now that I was trying to express the two very different, but very real impressions I have of myself. I am very proud, but equally ashamed of myself.
I’m amazing. I’m a fucking badass. I survived cancer, and all the bullshit since then. I have lived life on a razor’s edge. I know way more about life and death than most and I can appreciate life’s beauty in a much deeper way because of that. I’m smart, sarcastic, and kind of a handsome dude, if I do say so.
I’m also skinny, frail, puny, and bent over. I walk awkwardly. I lack coordination and flexibility. I suck.
The trick is to become proud of the physical scars. So far, though, they only repulse me.
You have all of the qualities that interested me. That’s for sure! Handsome and sarcastic being tied at number 1. And keep remembering, yes……life sux feeling like you are trapped inside of this puppet, but you DID survive. Not everyone is as lucky. I hope someday you can wake up and feel wonderful about yourself!