somehow , i live each time . i learn to breathe on my own , get out of bed , eat with people , go out , love others , and trust again . then the cycle repeats and it is all ripped away in the most violent manner until i am nothing more than a sad , decrepit , vile shell of the person people loved—who i loved . once again , i am nothing more than a product of the scars on my skin and the scars of my soul . yet , i manage to learn to live again , somehow .
















