What doesn’t kill you makes you forget your name.
What doesn’t kill you gives you post traumatic stress disorder.
What doesn’t kill you just makes you hate your life.
What doesn’t kill you makes you wish you were dead.
What doesn’t kill you makes you jump at the slightest noise.
What doesn’t kill you makes you an alcoholic and an impossible person to live with.
What doesn’t kill you makes you hide in a corner and draw the shapes so no one can see it.
What doesn’t kill you nevertheless kills the other people in the car.
What doesn’t kill you..
Eventually you figure out the way to put it in a box, to close that box up tight, with a little padlock, and stick it on a shelf, in the room, in the house that you don’t go very often.
You always know it’s there, it never leaves the back of your mind. But it doesn’t have to rule you.
And one day, one day far away from now you might even pull yourself up short and realize, like a shot, that you haven’t even thought about it for days.
What doesn’t kill you will always be waiting there in that box. Like a steel rod in your leg. Like a scar over your eye.
It doesn’t make you stronger, that’s the stupid lie. But try as it might.