Sunday, May 4, 2014


To fight for something is a beautiful thing. It can be anything. Even if it is for all the wrong reasons it can still be beautiful. Because to fight for something means that you care enough. Still, even if it is for all the wrong reasons, you care. When fighting you always hope that the outcome will be on your side. But the fight, that's what counts the most even if the outcome isn't what you hoped for.
I got to witness it first hand this weekend. I was able to see what people can do together when fighting hard enough.
I don't really share it much but I guess now is a good time. I'm use to death. And while it may be a rather odd thing to be use to, I am use to it none the less. It doesn't matter how or why right now. What matters is what I am not use to. I am not use to life. Not my own life, but others. Other peoples life and their fight to keep it. In my experience once something goes wrong that is it. Even my bravest warriors, the ones I looked up to the most, called it quits with very little try. But I saw something so different this time. I saw the fight. And I am experiencing the win. And it's fucking beautiful. And I am fucking proud.
As I sit here and contemplate whether or not you need to know the entire story of this fight that has taken me aback I simultaneously realize that I am really only talking to a select few people. And those people are the ones that were there. The people who probably don't realize what a beautiful thing this was to witness.
Baby steps are the ones that count but what about when we take things in leaps? What about when your entire life flashed and then changes before your eyes? I watched someone who I always viewed as indestructible sit in a chair in pain. Yet, as destructible as he may be, still acted as indestructible as I once viewed him. Which in turn made him that much stronger in my eyes.
As for everyone around him well... shit... it is fucking amazing what the people who love you will do for you. Because while he is the one who is fighting the toughest battle, everyone else is still fighting just as hard for him. Everyone else has lives that have also been flipped upside down. And everyone else wants this just as much as he does.
All in all I realized this weekend how fucking proud I am of my family and how we have all come such a long way. How after all that has happened to us there is still somehow strength to keep going. How even though we can be stubborn, pushy, addicted, ocd, lazy, moody, or tired, we just keep going. We just keep trying and we don't give up. We put our stupid human feelings aside for like five minutes and we get shit done. Because shit needs to get done and if we don't do it no one else fucking will.

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