You're Tough

How much is too much when the weight of your world is already on your

shoulders?

How angry can you be when you're taught to be "tough"?

My life has been a series of up hills that I NEVER INTENDED TO CLIMB but here I am. Breaking my back for people that wish death upon me.

How much do I have to lift before I can get a break?

How long of a break can you take after so many years? Would it even be long enough to replenish all that's been taken?

I've considered myself to be a strong person but this title wasn't bestowed unto me through hollow praise of a childhood long past.

It was thrust upon me, like an unwanted job title with no benefits or pay raise.

You're tough.

Over and over this phrase haunts the corners of my mind.

You're tough.

"Why don't you ever let anyone help you?"

Because I'm tough.

Every tragedy in my life was followed by the saying, " You're tough." as if it were a magic catch-all that hand waved the pain I felt in every instance.

When I was young and naive, this used to be a badge of honor. Though, being that "tough" kid I was, it turned into the very reason I never spoke out but always the reason I never stopped fighting.

You're tough.

After a motorcycle accident, the pain in my leg felt unbearable, I just wanted to sit.

"You're tough".

A few steps later I was in the hospital with a broken leg. A leg that would have been only bruised had I not been, "tough".

"Boys hit you because they like you", daycare teachers told me.

One rejection later, I'm flat on my back after being punched in the chest by this boy. Unable to catch my breath cause he was a few years older than me, and twice as tall.

"You're tough."

He only knocked the wind out of you for a full minute as we all watched, and did nothing. Besides, He can't get in trouble- after all, he's the head teacher's grandson. So get up, brush the dirt off your back and get out of the way- the older kids want to play basketball and you're laying in the middle of the court.

Yes. I was so tough, every time I even began to cry I was told,

" Stop that. You're too old for that, now."

After all, I'm tough.

Tough enough to hold my tongue as one of those snickering teachers gripped the back of my neck, shoving me to the ground and forced me to clean a mess I never made. It wasn't that hard...

" You're tough, after all."

As I grew, tough became my only descriptor, as any childlike behavior was beating out of me.

"You can't draw!"

"You can't sing!"

"You can't write!"

"You can't read!"

"You're tough."

That's all you can be till the day you take your own life because God wouldn't kill you to put you out of your misery. He loves you. He loves how tough you are.

Even in prayer I couldn't escape those words.

You're tough.

Tough enough the stand after a grown man rams into me full force into the back of a couch because I had the audacity to enter puberty- just standing there slowly growing out of his "favorite age". He had the nerve to call himself my father.

I'm tough, though, so no complaints from me- even if he can't keep his hands to himself cause God forbid the neighbors find out.

I was never given the opportunity to speak my truth- even when given the mic. I'm tough after all. The many, many scares don't hurt. I'm no different than a wall. Hit me. kick me. Try to make a single crack as I slowly harden on the inside. Set up your projectors and relive all your deepest insecurities. Besides, I'm the perfect color- your memories will pop on my surface because all I am is "Tough". Inside and out.