Recently I have been told that I am fucked up by all the things in my past. I thought that was a pretty harsh interpretation of my life. I don’t feel like I am fucked up. But then, how does one know that they are fucked up? If you have felt that way for a really long time…years and even more years…can you understand what it feels like to even be normal? What is even normal?

I don’t like to think that my life has been crappy or even fucked up. Those terms make it seem like it is all so completely far gone and there is no hope of change or fixing it. It is as if my life is just one big mess and the hazmat crew is off getting coffee and donuts.

Fucked up seems so painfully final.

Mortally wounded on the other hand, while it is also painfully final, I feel like it is just easier to take then the raw emotion of being fucked up. It sounds more noble and even sounds like there is still some time left. With being fucked up, there is no more time. You are just done, sign your last time card and leave your equipment at the door.

Sure, I won’t deny that my life hasn’t been easy (no one has had an easy life, no matter what you have been given, we all have things with have to get through). I also won’t pretend that those things in my past haven’t ripped me to the core and taken chunks of my life from me and even chunks of my skin from my body.

But to say I am fucked up sounds just so wrong. I don’t feel fucked up.

I feel like I am mortally wounded. Yes, these things will kill me; however, I am not done yet. Maybe there will be a blood transfusion. Maybe we can stop the blood lost. Maybe there is still something we can do to turn my fate from death’s door to another type of life.

Although I can feel as dark and despaired as the next suicide statisic, I can’t help clinging and fighting.

I am not fucked up. I can still be fixed.