I would prefer to commence with giving you all the positive factors that somehow developed the unique and courageous person I am. I would also like to outline the negative factors which I believe that have also played a major role in building my character. I will also mention the likes and dislike which you might find interesting.

Zoom in on your global map and you’ll find in Africa a well known sunny country called South Africa, further down you’ll find a big city called Cape Town. I live in a small region in Cape Town called Khayelitsha. Every month, week, or day is filled with entirely new experiences for mostly the young stars like me who love touring Khayelitsha.

Kindly allow me to take you on an imaginary tour around Khayelitsha. The first thing that forcefully grabs everyone‘s attention is the unity among the people of Khayelitsha. You’ll hear people screaming, laughing and some shouting for joy. Happiness is seen in every child’s face. Most parents may be single but I assure you they fully show their children love that even covers the role of an absent father. They are always helped by the whole community. A parent takes the neighbour‘s child as his or her own. The community churches also play a major role in sustaining the already existing unity. Sunday mornings are dedicated to teaching the children bible verses and the afternoons are for church that includes all ages. Schools, schools, schools, to me are just the most important places around, although I don’t really like school work, but true friends are made there. They keep you busy doing good things rather than sitting in the street planning some thinking about bad things.

The above are some things that keep us away from doing wrong things at a young age, but when we reach teenage stage there are huge changes taking place. The world appears as new and up for grabs. At that age you’ll see most of the teenagers starting to form small groups. In these groups they come up with all negative things that would make them more popular. Few of them join the groups because of being in need of money to sustain themselves. But most of the teenagers join because of peer pressure. Now you’ll find touring at night very different and scary. You’ll see big mobs running around trying to make the whole community small. But some of them do realise that this is just a waste of time although it is joyful because they become feared in the whole community and get a chance to even use guns, drive expensive cars and smoke all kinds of drugs just for them to feel high.

For some us who had managed or luckily escaped that kind of life, the new life is amazing every day. We live lives that the whole society prefers. We like playing soccer a lot and we often have little tournaments on Saturdays among our small local teams. We attend church every Sunday and go for bible studies on Thursdays. I personally like listening to African music and some hip-hop, but you’ll often find me listening to reggae because it some how connects me to a world which I do not know that is full of joy. Some of my friends like local music that they make themselves. They send good messages to the community and mostly to the lost youth. Every afternoon we attend a community group that bring good to the whole community. Our group is called DCYM (Delegate Children and Youth Movement). We help old people in our community with washing, groceries and painting. At school I attend good special projects like this Students for humanity project.

Believe it or not but life is really a journey to the bright future. That is my description of life from my experiences and with out them I would not be where I am today and I wouldn’t have made the decisions that I made during the process of living. Each and everyday is important in my life and I try by all means to make an effort to achieve something in my life. One wise man had once said to me, “Live life to the fullest and never put your problems aside for tomorrow because you will never know what the next day holds for you.. or something worse, what if tomorrow might never come for you? Would you like to live in regrets and sorrow for rest of your life? Or would you stand up for yourself and be a man? Think twice before you do anything”  Those words left me with something to think about for the rest of my life.

From my observation through out the years I found that people describe life according to their experiences in it. I have always believed that life is a journey nothing more, nothing less. We all have to walk through this path and we will meet obstacles, challenges and sometimes we have to climb up some mountains and get sweaty to achieve our goals and ambitions. Many give up in early stages of life because they are not so focused or they live under a polluted atmosphere, with negative people. To deal with death of a friend, classmate, boyfriend or girlfriend is not an easy task to live with in this universe we live in. Because those people are who we love and trust mostly in our childhood and teenage life because they understand us better than any adult.

Teenage life is very enjoyable, fun and the most risky stage of our lives. In our life-path I would compare it with a river. Many do not reach the other side of the river,  some drown on shore, without any action while others just choose to flow with it. This is a very crucial stage of our lives. Girls lose their virginity, get pregnant at a very early age while boys are involve in crime, drugs, violance and manymore. Both girls and boys get involved in relationships and that is the flow with a river. Just letting life flow with them. As I said many do not reach the other side of the river, that is, they do not get through thier teenage life clean, having goals in life or knowing what to do with their lives.

In life it is very challenging and difficult to get what one wants, but like I said before it is a journey to the bright future and we have to strive for our ambitions. As one author said, “Never give up. Never ever give up”. Let’s all go there and achieve those goals. With or without support we will succeed. This was meant to be and I have a strong belief that every one has a mission on Earth. Lets accomplish our missions. I believe in you. That you can.

My name is Nanzi Siyo and I am a cutter, I have been one for four years now. I still remember the reason why I started cutting myself…

Before June 18th 2007 (the day my father passed away), every day was just wonderful, waking up knowing that both of my parents were still alive and a bolt from the blue one of them dies… I still remember that day clearly-the day my father passed away-I saw his cold body lying on that hospital bed. I saw a tear in his right eye, and when I wiped it away and closed his eyes I realized that he was really gone. I was so in denial that I would sometimes wait up for him hoping that he would come back to me. I came up with all sorts of excuses that maybe it was all just a dream, but reality stroke and I finally realized that no matter how much I wished he would come back, that would never happen!

That’s when it all started, that’s when I started ‘abusing’ myself. One day I couldn’t handle it ,I just couldn’t handle the pain of losing him forever…I took my father’s shaving blade and I started cutting my wrist. At that time my intentions were to end my life right there and then; but I somehow found pleasure in the pain that I experienced while cutting myself and it made the pain of losing my dad vanish. It became an addiction.

In 2008, I started pushing people away from me, my friends to be precise, because I knew that I had a true friend, a friend that understood me, a friend that made me feel good about myself. I knew deep down that what I was doing to myself was wrong; I mean, why else would I feel self-conscious when wearing a short sleeve t-shirt?

You know, I have watched many shows where they talked about the issue which they called “self abuse”. I would become furious, because they would miss the point in the cutter’s story. They seemed to miss or rather not understand the part where the ‘victim’ would say: “I feel so good when I cut myself, I feel like nothing else in the world can make my pain go away.”

That is exactly how I feel when I cut myself; I find comfort when I see the blood…

In 2009, it became much, much worse. I would cut myself almost everywhere (correction: where people can’t see!); between my legs and arms. I felt like I didn’t need a reason to cut myself anymore.

There is a certain pleasure in pain. A sweet ecstasy. Sometimes I feel if pain can be this sweet, how exquisitely pleasurable death will be. When I torture myself ( I choose the word ‘torture’ because sometimes I would cut myself because I blamed myself for losing my friends and for feeling lonely and unloved or rather hated by the world) I don’t want to scream because I enjoy hurting myself. I hated myself more and more each day and would cut myself because of that. I cut myself everyday until December 15th… I was in one of those moments where I needed a fix of my drug, and that little voice in my head kept on saying: “Do it Nanzi, you know you want to, do it, do it!” I don’t know how but I overcame that voice and told it to SHUT UP! I picked up my phone and started sending please call me’s to one of my Students for Humanity friends. One of them called me, and I just told her what I was about to do to myself and how felt at that moment. Talking to her helped and I realized that sometimes a person just needs to talk about how they feel so that people can reach out and help them. I suddenly felt ashamed about what I had been doing to myself  for all these years. The strangest thing is that after I finished talking  to my friend  I was left alone again with that little voice in my head that never seems to shut up… I did it again,I gave in to the temptation. The good news is though, I have not cut myself since that day and I actually feel good about myself, slowly but surely I am learning to love myself.

I have come to a point of realizing that the pain was just a moment’s pleasure, but the scars will always be a constant reminder of what I used to do to myself. I decided to write about my problem so that people like me can realize that they are beautiful and hurting themselves is not an answer, and that they are strong enough to overcome any addiction or challenges that they are facing. Try to reach out to people so that you can find help,keeping your feelings inside hurts more than anything. I know I haven’t been ‘clean’ for that long, but the beauty of life and the love that people are giving me inspired me  to overcome this addiction. Share your story with me and maybe we could help each other recover.

The Elements of Being loved by you

My lover comforts me when I am angry

Eliminates my sadness.

And in her arms she caresses me

My lover pierces through my flash,

Hard, pressing my wrist to comfort me

She makes love and kisses me

In places that no one can see

She sings to me a sweet lullaby that leaves me unconscious with pleasure….

‘you know you want to’

Her voice cries out to me when I try to resist

I give in and…

She holds me tight when I’m conscious

And then I look around ,

The bruises,

The pain,

Blood everywhere…

And then I realize that my lover

Is only the blade that I’m holding in my hand .

As we all know a perfect family is where there is a father, a mother and kids. But unfortunately life isn’t always like that, not everybody’s life is a fairytale with happy endings. Growing up without a father wasn’t a walk in the park for me; I used to ask myself the same question everyday…why am I the one without a father? While I was growing up I wished my father was there for me, to teach me how to ride a bike, I wished he was there to take me for ice cream on Saturdays and I would also like to tell him about the crush I have on the girl next door. But as the years went on I realized that all this wishful thinking was just in my head, and I had to face the fact that I will never be able to turn them into reality.

The absence of fatherhood in one’s life is a loss of an experience that could never be replaced in life. This also has an impact in your life because you tend to think that you are useless and you are worth nothing. There is a constant thinking that comes up…that you are not suppose to live, you are just a mistake.

You get to see the actual need for a father by the time you reach puberty, because there are certain things that you cannot share with your mother. I sometimes lay awake at night and question myself am I worth the life I am living? Because I feel like my life is kind of incomplete, even though I accepted the fact that I don’t have a father I still feel there is that huge part which is missing in my life.

Growing up without a father has its own advantages in a way. Due to the fact that you realize life is not always a smooth ride it is like a roller coaster ride. You also learn to take care of yourself at the very early age, not that my mother wasn’t there for me.

The fact that: kids who grew up without their fathers are not respectful, is not true it all depends on who you are as a person, and your morals. My mother played a major role in my life by nurturing me, even though she is a single parent who gets her salary through cleaning other people’s houses. So please people must not be so stereotypic about kids who grew up without their fathers, and I’m not saying they are all saints, just like kids who grew up with their fathers.

Now that I know how it feels like to grow up without a father, I made a decision, that I will always be there for my kids, I will give them an experience that I never have a chance to appreciate.

Being lonely is one of the things that I have experienced in my life. My family is there, but they cannot see me when I am not alright, they are not able to distinguish between bad and happy in my life they cannot….. They think that they know me whereas they do not. In my life I live with my stepmother and my dad but sometimes I would wish I stayed with my mom. Ever in my life I am faced with problems, I have fought with my parents several times but they cannot be able to see me that I am in a shallow place, I am trapped inside a box where I cannot get out, being suffocated, I cry, I feel that I am not cared for that I am not loved sometimes I would think that I must kill my self to be able to get out of my misery and the resentment that I have. But people, in life you must not think like that you must just try and ignore these situations that come in your way, that is what I tell myself everyday. I would look around and see hey! I am lonely there is no one that I could reach to, and my life is independent. I would see young teenagers of my age loving their parents and being very happy that they are loved and cared for. I would say I have this day I must use this day in efficiency I must not let any opportunity that comes my way to get slipped out of my fingers I must just grab it with both fingers. I have a motto that keeps me going: perseverance determination and resilience (PDR). PDR is what is going to take me to the journey of success, to the journey of my fairytale plans when I grow up.

I tell myself:  it is the loneliness that is going to build me and that is going to make me stronger. In life when you go through trials and tribulations we think that we are not going to survive hey! Those trials they are there not to kill us but to make us.

The worst part in my life is when I would see that my dad would be in favor of my stepmother in everything that I do. If I would make a mistake it would be turned into something so huge like as if a have made a huge mistake that cannot be forgiven, and I would be shouted for and get threats that are so hurting and I would ask my self “why did this have to happen to why me”. But in reality I have to know that there is no answer to that. I have survived huge things being called hurting names by my stepmother. The thing that makes me have this huge resentment is: my father also calls me by hurting names that no one in his life would want to be called. I ask my self.. Why! Why me…

Even though my stepmother says awful names to me, she buys me clothes and gives me money sometimes. She would say “I will cut you off my finances and you shall see who will buy you things”. People, this year I told myself: as long as I have a shelter to sleep and I am able to eat I am alright. You know, many people think money makes them but money does not make you. I want everyone with this kind of situation to tell him or her self the same thing.

I would like to say to youngsters that are also going through the same thing as me, they should just try and ignore it, I know it is not easy but try until you have finished school because if you are thinking of running away, that wont help you in anyway. School will get you in your destination, don’t let your dreams be flushed way.

By kabelo.

Come to think about it: wouldn’t life be better if it was like an animated cartoon, where a person can just “chop and change” a scene of their life to their heart’s content, well, I wouldn’t lie to you if I have said: “I would also like it this way”, but life is not like that.

From my point of view; life is already like a cartoon (Without the planned scenes, continuations & editing.) and where a person faces different challenges and finds a way to solve them without any alterations or changes to them.

Well for me, life can only be edited by the only editor/ creator/ main producer of the show (Whoever you believe in) and whatever he puts me in, I will always find a way to go through it, without going the other direction and that’s what I like about life.

In the end, life is what you make of it and in the words of my favorite rapper Marshal Mathers III, a.k.a Eminem: “The truth is you don’t know what is going to happen tomorrow. Life is a crazy ride, and nothing is guaranteed.” And that’s the real truth about life .

A nations pride lies within its young girls and women. In order for a nation to prosper in all aspects, its young women need to be of high dignity and pride. It is of utter importance that a girl maintains her purity until marriage because that reflects the kind of person she is & her family’s upbringing.

This is what I have been told ever since I could remember & this is what I believed in. I respected myself and my body and did not engage in any uncalled for activities. I always participated in the famous Zulu Virginity testing ceremony and my parents prided themselves in me. I was Intombi nto(Virgin) and was proud of myself.

It was not until after the grade 10 school holidays that a catastrophe occurred.

He had always looked at me in an uncomfortable manner. His eyes told a story. A story of hurt and pain. I tried to warm up to him and let him know that he could talk to me if he ever needed someone to talk to. He was an awfully quiet matriculate and students said that not all was okay for him upstairs. I did not believe this. I always said he just needed someone to be his friend. Being the kind and loving person that I am, I took it upon myself to be that person for him.

During intervals I would try and stir up a conversation with him but I was always responded with a cold answer. “No”, “yes” is all I ever got out of him. But I continued trying anyway. Then one afternoon he came up to me. “There’s something I want to talk to you about. Meet me 9pm sharp near MaDlamini’s shop.” Naturally I agreed hoping that he had warmed up to and would tell me what his problem or problems were. I had been patient with him. Patience is one of the things my parents had told me to practice with people. “Patience my girl. Good things come to those that wait” my father had once said smoking his pipe. Little did I know that that night nothing close to good was coming nowhere near me.

I sneaked out the window because I knew there was no way my parents would let me out of the house at that time even if it was for helping a friend out. Now.. I wish I had.

I met him but he wasn’t his usual self. He smelt terrible. A mixture of alcohol and something more than just a cigarette. Then it all happened it all too fast. Out of nowhere three other guys appeared. I tried to fight them off but before I realized it, we were behind the bushes and not a sound could come out of my mouth. They raped me…….one by one. And just like that, they took away the most precious gift that I had, my virginity. Up to this moment I can still smell their alcoholic breathes on my skin. The smell made me want to puke.

I sneaked back into the house and literally scrubbed my skin off. I thought I could make their smell go away. I did not want a trace of them on my skin. I felt dirty……I was dirty. I cried all night. I lied the next morning. Said I had a terrible headache so my mum said I ought to stay at home.

Weeks went by and I became thinner and thinner. My grades dropped from A to D.

I felt suicidal. I never saw him at school again. Rumors said that he had left for Johannesburg with his friends who were well known criminals.

I thought that I could keep what happened a secret. I don’t know why I thought this way.

Two months later, I had missed my period for the second time. How was I going to explain this to my parents. I would rather die than disgrace my them. And that was the fate that I was going to follow. I took an overdose of tablets.

The rest they say is history. I woke up in hospital two months later. I had lost the baby. My rape baby. I explained everything to my parents and surprisingly they were understanding. They did not blame me. Said I should have told them. Now my rapists had gotten away with what they had done.

I got better and started being my old self again but my virginity was gone. Taken away in a painful manner and by the wrong people. I would give anything to have it back again but since I never can, I told myself to abstain till marriage.

BY:ZIKHONA MPOTULO

My friends call me Sbuja, I live in Khayelitsha. I had always lived my life according to my own rules, separated from reality and what is out there in the world. I never associated myself with politics, love and other issues concerning the world at large. I always had in mind that the world does not want anything to do with me, that is why I never saw myself in another country but South Africa.

I was born in a special province, called the Eastern Cape. There I lived as a boy with no dreams or personality. The only dreams I had then were me having a big house, latest BMW car and beautiful wife with kids. This (when I was still a kid) was the time that I used to not care if I was wearing warm clothes when it was cold; not worry about what I will eat; not worry if I come home early or late. I always heard my parents warning me of coming late (but I did not listen). I always liked to play with other children, and being in the company of people.

Then things changed when I first move to the Western Cape in the year 2000, I was exposed to a lot of cultures and other things like languages (Sesotho, Zulu etc.). I began to adjust from being with people and learnt to be on my own. And what made me even more separated from people, is that at primary school I used to be bullied and tortured sometimes, and even my friends in primary school never liked me that much and they sometimes turned against me.

After years of trauma and anger, I vowed that I would never be bullied in my life again until I die, the more I saw people the anger grew even more and the results were to never associate myself with other people because they don’t like me anyway. I never wanted to share any of my opinions because they would be turned down any way. I never considered my own point of view, because they seemed to have no effect.

I went through all the things that to most people seem to find the opposite of what life must be, but from my experience all these things are handy in life( for example: Now that I am old I know what being poor means, and how life could be unfair sometimes and could seem to be bad). I am who and what I am today, I feel very proud to be a person living in a low class area (and poor if you may call it) but to me it is life and also to be a South African. As a person you must feel very proud of yourself, your background, your culture and your living environment. It does not matter what others may say because what they say will never change who you are or where you come from, or what you went through because you can change it but you can feel good about it.

Until to this day I am still that same person and I never dream of changing because through this person that I am now, I have learnt to appreciate what life has to offer me; appreciate the way I am irrespective of what people think or say about me; how to make judgments concerning my future; learning from my mistakes and correcting them.

I have began to understand the complex side of the world and now I have big dreams that I will make use of the year 2010; become an Electric engineer hopefully after university. This is who I am, a proud South African who has big dreams; who has all the dreams and I will make it. Just you see!

I am “one of them”. One of the millions who have to live their life’s alone and lonely. Who have to always stay at guard of who invades their “being”, and take advantage of them because they have no one to stand up for them, no one to protect and care for them. Everybody just doesn’t care about what happens to them or how it happens. Imagine YOU, in the middle of no where, you feel lost, better yet lonely. You struggle financially, spiritually and emotionally. You have no one to turn to, no one to support you and no one to guide you but you instead have to give all that to someone else. Sounds awful!! but guess what? A lot of us have to live with that in our everyday lifes. And believe it or not, it is hard not to mention frustrating.

It’s been almost 9 years living my life in a struggle. Moving from relative to relative and having to adapt and live with humiliation and being mistreated. I’ve lost my mother at a very early age of 8. The age at which I was starting to get to know her. Was starting to feel close to her, love and tenderness. I went through that with my sister there to support me, but none of the less, she too couldn’t love me as my mother would. I don’t blame her though, and completely understand the fact that she couldn’t love me as well as her kids. Shortly after my mom’s death, dad lost the house and my sis and I were forced to move. I moved to my grandma’s and she moved in with her abusive, useless boyfriend

Even though so, I later lost “dad”. To whom I had grown attached to, grown to love and cherish. Though he hadn’t been there for me most times but every night in my dreams, he was my hero, my friend, my mentor and most importantly my “EVERYTHING”. I watched him suffer from “the slims disease”(aids). He faded away in a very short period of time and I later discovered that my mom as well died from it. That’s where confusion took its toll. How could I be angry with someone to whom I’ve grown attached to, but how could I not ? all this was his fault. All this was because he didn’t know how to control his “manhood”. Because he couldn’t stay faithful to his wife and because he was bitching around with whores I assume. Now I’m left with no mother nor father and have to survive by accepting “left overs’ from other people. I had grown to respect “dad” of his intelligence but with what he had done, he had lost my respect and honor.

On his death bed, he was forced to sign a will to which it stated that he was giving the house to his “girlfriend”, bits of the “peanuts” he had to me and nothing to my sis. It was awful because that all the things that both my parents especially my mom had worked hard for were going to waste, wasted away to someone whom we never knew and to whom even my dad never knew well

Through that, I thought the worst was over. But guess I thought wrong. Not only did he live us with “peanuts” but with a cruel stepmom who wanted to take control of everything. Take everything away from us, everything that we built our memories on and what we had called “home”. Our “family” turned their backs on us. They supported the stepmom over us. Said she deserved the house because she had “peeped” our fathers shit when he was sick, when we were not there to do it. But again it was her duty. Because she had dated my father knowing his status and had hopes that when he dies she will get the house and everything in it. You won’t believe that this house we were fighting over was not a real, huge mansion but a small 1 roomed house. You might be asking why would we fight for it then. The answer would be because that 1 small roomed house was what we called home. The only thing left of the memories of our parents to which they have faded away in my memory box.

I’ve completely hidden myself behind the walls of laughter. I laugh everything off, no matter how big it might be, I just pretend it’s all ok while I’m deeply hurting inside, but no one ever notices. guess I’m really good at it. I’ve learnt not to cry anymore, it’s pointless because it makes no difference. Doesn’t make anything any better. Guess it’s true what they say, “what doesn’t kill you, makes you stronger”. I’m stronger now, can resist any force that comes my way. Even though that force destroys part of me, I’ll be sure to mend it later I hope!!

I am “one of them”. One of the millions who have to live their life’s alone and lonely. Who have to always stay at guard of who invades their “being”, and take advantage of them because they have no one to stand up for them, no one to protect and care for them. Everybody just doesn’t care about what happens to them or how it happens. Imagine YOU, in the middle of no where, you feel lost, better yet lonely. You struggle financially, spiritually and emotionally. You have no one to turn to, no one to support you and no one to guide you but you instead have to give all that to someone else. Sounds awful!! but guess what? A lot of us have to live with that in our everyday lifes. And believe it or not, it is hard not to mention frustrating.

It’s been almost 9 years living my life in a struggle. Moving from relative to relative and having to adapt and live with humiliation and being mistreated. I’ve lost my mother at a very early age of 8. The age at which I was starting to get to know her. Was starting to feel close to her, love and tenderness. I went through that with my sister there to support me, but none of the less, she too couldn’t love me as my mother would. I don’t blame her though, and completely understand the fact that she couldn’t love me as well as her kids. Shortly after my mom’s death, dad lost the house and my sis and I were forced to move. I moved to my grandma’s and she moved in with her abusive, useless boyfriend

Even though so, I later lost “dad”. To whom I had grown attached to, grown to love and cherish. Though he hadn’t been there for me most times but every night in my dreams, he was my hero, my friend, my mentor and most importantly my “EVERYTHING”. I watched him suffer from “the slims disease”(aids). He faded away in a very short period of time and I later discovered that my mom as well died from it. That’s where confusion took its toll. How could I be angry with someone to whom I’ve grown attached to, but how could I not ? all this was his fault. All this was because he didn’t know how to control his “manhood”. Because he couldn’t stay faithful to his wife and because he was bitching around with whores I assume. Now I’m left with no mother nor father and have to survive by accepting “left overs’ from other people. I had grown to respect “dad” of his intelligence but with what he had done, he had lost my respect and honor.

On his death bed, he was forced to sign a will to which it stated that he was giving the house to his “girlfriend”, bits of the “peanuts” he had to me and nothing to my sis. It was awful because that all the things that both my parents especially my mom had worked hard for were going to waste, wasted away to someone whom we never knew and to whom even my dad never knew well

Through that, I thought the worst was over. But guess I thought wrong. Not only did he live us with “peanuts” but with a cruel stepmom who wanted to take control of everything. Take everything away from us, everything that we built our memories on and what we had called “home”. Our “family” turned their backs on us. They supported the stepmom over us. Said she deserved the house because she had “peeped” our fathers shit when he was sick, when we were not there to do it. But again it was her duty. Because she had dated my father knowing his status and had hopes that when he dies she will get the house and everything in it. You won’t believe that this house we were fighting over was not a real, huge mansion but a small 1 roomed house. You might be asking why would we fight for it then. The answer would be because that 1 small roomed house was what we called home. The only thing left of the memories of our parents to which they have faded away in my memory box.

I’ve completely hidden myself behind the walls of laughter. I laugh everything off, no matter how big it might be, I just pretend it’s all ok while I’m deeply hurting inside, but no one ever notices. guess I’m really good at it. I’ve learnt not to cry anymore, it’s pointless because it makes no difference. Doesn’t make anything any better. Guess it’s true what they say, “what doesn’t kill you, makes you stronger”. I’m stronger now, can resist any force that comes my way. Even though that force destroys part of me, I’ll be sure to mend it later I hope!!