I just raised my fist and stormed across a hell made of anger, guilt, and ignorace that I created for myself.
I was never the same again. I don't even remember who I was before. The ghost of a boy stamping his frustrated feet in the dirt.
I believe I became whatever the universe wanted me to be though.
When you walk through fire, some part of the poison burns off and whatever detriment that remains is charred and visible; able to be conquered like the remnants of a failing army.