It's weird what death can do to people.
It's such an abstract idea, yet, so absolute.
You stand over someone who is dying, and you feel things you've never felt before. Hurt for someone you don't even know. The realization that at any moment they may take their last breath, and there's really nothing else you can do for them. So you just start praying. Even if you're not religious. You start chanting in your head, and you hope that someone, or something... anything... will hear you. Something greater than any of us will reach down and pluck the misery from their soul, and either take them away, or heal them.

It's strange and so surreal, and you just count your lucky stars that you are okay, and healthy, and alive.

Flashback to the Toledo Zoo.
I remember going into the insect cave together. You holding my hand when you saw the huge ass spiders, and me laughing at your terrified expression. We walked hand in hand through the park. We saw polar bears and tigers. Little fuzzy animals weaving in and out of bars, playing tag. It started to downpour and we sat under the awning of a little snack bar and ate soft pretzels, looking out at the train station that was currently shut down because of the rain. And we were happy. I was happy to be there with you. You were happy to be there with me. I bought a t-shirt that day, at a booth by the polar bears. It says Toledo Zoo. When I slipped the shirt on this morning after my shower, I was suddenly reminded of you. I wonder if you ever think of me.


Fast forwards to Afternoon Delight.
I have a ham sandwich. You have some sort of grilled cheese something-or-other. I have mandarin oranges and cherry pepsi. You do, too. We are laughing and talking about stupid shit. Like how your best friend just broke up with his girlfriend, and now he wants to get back together. You only see it lasting a few weeks. We laugh at their stupidity. I ask you to join my soccer team, and you willingly oblige. We laugh at random people in the restaurant. And then you pick my hand up and cradle it in both of yours. And I'm mesmerized. I can't look you in the eye. I'm staring at my hand, lost in yours. And in that moment, if you asked me to come back, if you asked me to love you again, I know that I wouldn't even hesitate. I would lean over our half eaten sandwiches and cherry soda and I would take your face in my hands and kiss you, just like I used to. And no one else in the world would matter except for you, because I still love you.

What am I doing.
I'm lost in you.

I met up with you for lunch the other day.
Being with you is as easy as breathing. I don't have to be anyone, prove anything, look a certain way. I just... am, and that's good enough for you.

I know that I'm stronger than half the people in this room. They didn't have to go through the abuse that I did. I was abused for ten years and was sworn into silence because I was so scared. And even though I deny it, it's what messed me up. But I pulled myself back up, and put myself back together, and faked a smile until it turned genuine.

No one else in this room can say that.

Yes, I have scars. But I'm so much stronger than you will ever be.
I'd take these scars over being a coward any day.