If it can make you stronger

it can kill you

personally, I like

the sentiment

but respectfully disagree

Sunday in the diner

walking in, a homeless guy

hits me and my buddy

up for

one dollar

to get a dollar burger

my buddy waits by the door

and I think about it

the homeless guy mentions

something about showing me

some kind of homeless card

or crazy card he has

and I pull a five-spot from

my wallet

he snatches it:

"Thanks, man. You're badass."

He walks off and I follow

my buddy inside and he looks at

me and smiles

I scratch my protruding gut:

"Tell me something I don't know, motherfucker."

We laugh and get our booth

order and eat while I watch

more homeless out

the window

peppering the outside

full with the scrubbed-clean

after-worship crowd

as they begin to pile in

for breakfast

I think about them

clean like soap

every Sunday

the industry of Christ

if we want to truly

help the homeless

and kill the national

deficit, provide true

and humanely

accessible health care,

and all the etceteras

that follow these,

tax the churches

but I take my thoughts

of these dead horse thoughts

of all this

and watch the sunlight

battle through

a bright grey sky

and the coffee

begins its coursing

while I remember all

the love and hate

and platitudes and

erase them from my

mind at once

and realize that because or

in spite of

everything around me

I am happy

and think back to my favorite

Nietzsche quote:

The Trouble With Happiness

"Now everything I touch turns out to be wonderful. Now I love any fate which comes my way. Who feels like being my fate?"

what doesn't kill me

piles up on my

shoulders

pound by pound

beating down onto my

skin

the weight of all

the horrors I've witnessed

erodes away at my

back

turning my

skin

into dust and dirt

flakes of emotions

brushing away

with each gust of wind

what doesn't kill me

turns my

spine and bones

into wood

an infestation

of termites

crawling throughout

the crevices of my

ribcage

assisting in the

deterioration

of my

hope

they say

"what doesn't kill you

makes you stronger"

but

what didn't kill me

still carries my picture

in his wallet.

still says hello,

when he sees me

on the street.

If Nietzsche's most

ubiquitous quote

holds any air

at all,

by now, I should be

stronger than the

motherfucking Hulk...

The first real hurt put on me was by a group of adolescent bullies. My face stung and throbbed from the impact of a stone wall.

The taste of blood fresh on my tongue. Kidneys crying out after the over-priced sneaker impaling.

That blindside attack put things in perspective for me at a young age. I was ready to die. The brutal laughter of the group was meant to dim my spirits. It fueled a fire that not one of them saw coming.

I healed, I rested, and I grew stronger. Not physically but in a way that I hadn't yet experienced. This would not define my character. Refusing to press charges and submit to other’s means of handling my situation surprised the ’rents but that couldn't give me the satisfaction I yearned for. The demand was that I handle my own.

The hierarchy of the group wasn't complex. As the most well-off and loudest of the spoiled rotten gang this kid took the lead. Followed by some mindless sheep that wannabes look down on he had to go down first. His house wasn't too far from the bus stop where the brutality went down. This morning was going to be it. My leg quivered with adrenaline. The spiked piece of wood slowly splintering in my clenched fist.

He strolled by the bush where I crouched. The demeanor of reckless abandon only adding to my rage. He should be watching his back and I was going to show him why…NOW! The piece of wood protruded from his back like some sort of familiar G.I. Joe accessory. Then the blood started running down. He dropped to his knees and reached back to try to figure out why, where, and how this came to be. “Hey asshole, remember me?”

I screamed as I kicked his ribs. My voice tremored with the rage. Tears filled my eyes. His lackeys heard the ruckus and made their way from the morning gathering.

This is it. I’m ready for you bitches now! The focus on me wasn't a rabble, though. It was a respectful awe. Not being ready for that reaction, I did the one thing that my mind defaulted to at that age and ran home.

The next day when no mention of the incident was brought to my attention I understood…While this may have not made me a man, I was no longer innocent to this level of perception.

Fear is a control that you voluntarily release.

Stay strong.

That which does not kill you makes us...

More

Tolerant

Empathetic

Insightful

Thankful

Independent

But there is a dark side ....

Wittgenstein replied to Nietzsche, "It's all semantics, my confused friend. What does 'that which does not kill' mean? What does 'us' mean? What does 'stronger' mean? God is in the details. For instance, if 'that which does not kill' means 'nothing' and 'us' means 'everything,' as arguably there is no actual separation or difference whatsoever, and if 'stronger' means 'more developed,' then the answer to your philosophical mystery is 'most certainly' - for everything keeps evolving; the force of evolutionary growth exceeds the force of evolutionary decay. But of course, this is but one of an infinite number of answers to your question, all of which contingent upon the precise definition of each term within your semantic equation." Nietzsche laughed.

If I could have collected money every time a person said that to me, I'd be close to a millionaire. I've been to a lot of rehabs and this was like their fucking motto there. The counselor's said it and the patients too.

At first I hated that quote. It irked me in every single way. I could say, "man, I'm fresh out of smokes." Someone in the room would reply with, "what doesn't kill you makes you stronger!" Id shoot a quick glare towards them and they'd have a big smile on their face. I was disgusted with them, with the saying, and for the fact I was out of cigs. I already figured out that's what every counselor would say when they had nothing else to say. They'd want me to open up and talk about my feelings. I'd do just that and the response was never comforting. It was always those damn words.

Funny thing is, a few years later I found myself saying it to myself and to others. I'd lose my apartment and be homeless and inside my head say, that which does not kill us makes us stronger. It became comforting. I must have said it everyday for a year straight to myself.

I believe that quote is true. I personally know that I am stronger for the things I've gone through in my life. Obviously I won't be picking up a keg with one hand and tossing it down the road with a flick of my wrist, kind of stronger. I am stronger emotionally and mentally. If I wasn't, then I'd probably be dead.