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.

Unstoppable. Immovable.

I am a raging blue firestorm.

All consuming.

I am a cold steel frame.

Indestructible.

I cannot see.

I am crusted over.

Blind.

Hardened. Small. Crunched and cracked.

Pathetic.

-car

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.