I hate the idea that my suffering is what made me who I am.
My suffering was not tragically beautiful, or a hidden gift.
There was no grand reason for it.
It did not make me anything.
It was suffering.
That’s it.
It did not make me kind and gentle.
It did not teach me how to love well.
It did not make me strong and good.
It did not make me who I am.
I made me who I am.
I suffered. Then-
I decided to be kind and gentle
I taught myself how to love well.
I made myself strong and am good because I choose to be.
I am who I am not because I suffered,
I am who I am despite my suffering.
I am who I am in spite of my suffering.
My suffering does not get to take that from me too.

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