Sometimes, repressed memories flood back,
and I get swept away in the current.

Trauma has a way of repeating itself,
with current physical pain, my body reminisces.

Remembering, some of my closest sibling memories,
involved my actual back as a shield.

Huddled together, trembling in anticipation,
of that next forsaken crack of leather.

How the scars have faded away,
the pain still has a firm hold.

The instances stung, with those studded shards
encrusted into the belt.

Humans find ways to survive,
in any situation you adapt.

Tried to avoid the rage at all costs,
no complaining, no whining.

Sharing feelings was frowned upon,
Sympathy and empathy replaced by malice and anger.

Didn't matter what we did,
If there was drinking, there were beatings.

Hope long lost,
only a distant memory.

But the worst part was the constant fear,
the uncontrollable flinch, when someone went to pat you on the back.

Not just "good jobs", but all sorts of little things
had a nasty habit of dragging out these memories.

Fire drills, huddled over,
protecting what you could.

Brushing up against a chair,
pain receptors flaring.

Learning how to sleep,
without any pillows.

You don't need them,
your sister does.

Trying to explain being at the pool,
95 degree weather, long sleeves on.

Back against the wall in every room,
so no one could sneak up on you.

Scared of back massages, and the wrong press,
tissue still sensitive here, and completely numb there.

Afraid of thunderstorms,
just sound like cracks from the studded leather.

In the fast world of today,
where you're pressured to go out and do,
I find, that my favorite days,
are filled with just laying in the grass.

The peaceful experience
tends to slow down time,
and I appreciate the little things
that much more.

"I am accustomed to pain!"
shouts Frankenstein's monster.
Van Helsing desperately pleading to pull him out
of his desperate, life controlling despair.

The life parallels to this scene I have were already highlighted,
in a previous poem, showing my friends to be quite heroic.
Just like the monster portrayed in this movie,
I also struggle with finding hope within the bleak hand I've been dealt.

"How could the world go back when so much bad has happened?"
Sam asks Frodo, referring to the raging war.
He continues, "A new day will come,
when the sun shines it will shine brighter."

How is it, in a world surrounded by death and destruction,
that someone can look to the potential future and find promise?
The optimism stands out, especially considered the source.
Hobbits weren't looked to as leaders, but in this moment, Sam was one.

"I know you play msterious to avoid getting hurt."
******-analyzes Scott Pilgrim, showing talent outside of guitar-playing.
"I know you have reasons for not talking about your past."
Oh, Scott...don't we all?

Scott shows us bravery is not a required part of the operation,
but merely a deep understanding for those around us.
Showing we can't all just run away like Forrest Gump,
but surround ourselves with people who care.

While I doubt people turn to movies such as
Van Helsing, The Two Towers, and S.P. vs the World for advice
but I find it foolish to turn down free wisdom falling into my lap.
So you shouldn't take things at first glance, they're worth considering.

I have always been one to make sacrifices.
I am not bitter, it is just how my life has played out.
Just like Pavlov's dogs, I have been trained
that one stimulus warrants a specific outcome.
This time, instead of a bell and food
my experiment relates to selfish thinking and punishment.
Classical conditioning has a stranglehold on me,
to the point where I feel guilty about any indulgences
or even asking for anything. In a world of "me first"
I am a sheep among wolves, trying not to get devoured.

Its weird when the destination becomes more fun than the journey.
Goals are important, but you have to enjoy the ride.
That way its not solely based on pass or fail,
you still can get something out of the trip,
even if you don't succeed. And you won't every time.
No one does. Adversity shapes character.
No wonder the best people have the most scars.

I hate mirrors.
All I ever see
Is my father.
Don't let me
become him.

All in all, I have been relatively lucky,
everyone has their trials and tribulations.
We are products of our environment, more or less,
in comparison, my struggles are no worse than some.
That might be worse, knowing how rough others have it,
because guilt can be a powerful deterrent to communication.
I feel guilt about letting people in for they have enough,
they do not need me to weigh them down.
Because bearing my weight alone is more appealing,
I find security in keeping people at arm's length.
Keeping people far enough away acts like a vanilla roller coaster,
you don't get too high on happiness, or too low from pain.
I hide behind the illusion of self sufficiency,
as to avoid exposing any weakness.
Over the years, my joy has waned away,
to the point where I simply drift through.
Living this way, give plenty room for reflection,
isolation has led me to an epiphany, or revelation if you will.
I believe I have gone as far as I can alone,
I want something more. I need something more.
Holding everything inside doesn't make us strong,
but the willingness to give ourselves up to others.
I tell you this having lived life as a hermit with moderate success,
but it has all been superficial, nothing deeply helping.
You cannot make this journey alone,
believe me, I have tried.