I remember when we met. I remember where I was, what I was doing. Who knew that I would make a full circle and be back to where I started in life. Not wanting to be here. Be part of this planet where no one actually cares about you. The wrong people getting hurt while others are getting by. I never asked for all this to happen. But low and behold, I’m always the one getting grenades thrown at. Always the one getting hurt. And for what? It sucks having a good heart. Even if it’s bruised and broken and about to fall apart. I still have the ability to use whatever is left of it. I guess that’s what I get for being walked on all these years….