I always romanticized pain. What a wonderful story it would make, to go through a hurt so tragic.
How glorious my comeback would be from the rubble of my broken bones.
“Look at her!” They’d say admiringly.
“Look at how beautiful and strong she is” they’d whisper.
Because that is the way life worked, we thought. Surely if you suffered in the past, Life owed you a great future.
We were wrong.
Someone should have told me,
To not turn a drizzle into a thunderstorm.