What does not kill me, makes me stronger.I always thought I'd die, yet somehow I always know it's just not the end, yet.
Somehow the cycle always repeats, regardless of its severity.
There was once a time I thought I'd just die flat in the exam hall, yet I managed to drag myself back to hostel.
There was once a time I thought I'd just pass out under the big sun, yet I managed to walk myself back to my room.
There was also a time I thought I'd start rolling down the stairs for my legs were jelly, yet I still managed to walk to the lecture theatre.
After some trying moments, I always manage to walk out feeling triumphant, for I have surmounted all pains for once more. And then I think to myself, God the Almighty blessed women with extraordinary tolerance.
Then again, I might have experienced the most severe, gone through the most numbing of pain, yet more often than not I find myself forgetting about all that kills after I surmounted the pain. This is not just THE kind of pain classified for women I'm referring to. I speak of pain in general - all that hurts, all that kills.
Once the hurt is gone, I resume where I left off, with zero recollection of what consumed me previously. That's what I always do - I always end up forgetting the pain, until it comes back around and torture me again.
Maybe I am really blessed with high pain tolerance. Or maybe it is just a severe case of selective amnesia. But whichever the case is, I'm truly glad that once again, I have risen from the dead.
