Piece by broken piece, I'm starting to put together the puzzle. One day, when everything is set in place, I know it'll be such a beautiful picture. But it's the tragedies and the fuck ups, the heart breaks and the hard luck that we carry with us. Those are the things that change us, but not define us. They are the turning points. They are the wake up calls. They are the anti-role models and the bad examples I won't become. They are the flashing red lights, the warning signs, the pain she feels when she touches a hot stove that tells her to pull her hand away. They force us to open our eyes. They force us to change. But no matter how much we alter ourselves and the world around us, they still exist, always creeping in the back our minds. They're still there, jagged little pieces of our past, a back drop, a history. Alone, they're nothing but bad memories, but pieced together we can use them to make us a better tomorrow. We just have to survive them first.