This is a picture of me that’s at least ten years old.
Yes, I used to weigh about as much as a bean stalk. Since then I’ve gained another person in weight, but I believe I’ve grown a lot in other ways as well.
Maybe not in maturity, but certainly in cynicism.
That kid was happy, easy to get along with, and shy around new girls.
He was turned to ash on his way through college.
It was a bad time. A bad couple of years, and easily the reason I don’t have the 3 bachelor’s degrees I’d planned on graduating with.
I’d like to think I’ve come out the other side, though.
That I am the phoenix born from the ashes of youth and innocence. I’d like to think that the things I’ve gone through have tempered me and made me stronger. That those things that put the poor little kid through the flames of hell have wrought a more powerful, purer weapon in the process.
I’d like to think I’ve grown up a lot.
But, I’m not sure.
There’s still a long way I’ve got to go, a lot of things to do, before I can say I like myself again.
Sorry about being depressing.