Pain = Misery...Learning From Pain = Growth
Forgive me if I'm tearful, but I just learned a hard solution to a *very* hard--(pause)--problem, and gained a moment of terrible freedom. My heart just grew a very great deal, and it hurt quite a bit. Perhaps this is why each and every one of us gets his or her heart broken. Whether it be our best friend "moving" away(goodbye daddy, I'll miss you so much (*shatter/grow*),
our sweet chow/spaniel(...I miss you Jesse*yelp/grow*), our first love telling us how much she likes the new "best friend"(She liked his long hair*snap/grow*). We have to grow up so quickly nowadaze. I grew up in one year. It was the year my father died. The year of hollowness, grief and unendurable spectacles of agony. He was gone, mom was obliterated, I was all that was left. I not only bore the responsibility to show the world a good, strong and kind Umberger. One untouched by the shame and misery that poisons our nation, the hellish cries of the past, the return of what was supposed to !*!NEVER!*! happen !*!AGAIN!*!. What disgrace, oh what an agonizing shame it is know that I live in a world where GENOCIDE is appeased with bloated indifference to the only thing that matter:FREEDOM! If you deny others their FREEDOM, yours curdles and sloughs off of you before you can reload. And then we are there, all around, all power, all pieces of justice, and then shoot you in the fucking head, because you are not worthy of associating all that we know and love. My blood burns for the blood in Africa, in Darfur*split/grow*(please hold-on, we're still growing), and my heart pumps enough of the outrage I feel to bring them all back(I would do it...if only I could :X). I bore not only the responsibility of *being* the legendary kindness of an Umberger, but also the responsibility of me raising me so mom could survive without Steven. Her heart had to grow 19 years worth of pain, and all in one instant *wail* it was over. Of course, this was too much, so instead she just suffered the same intense agony of the moment every night for ten years*don't worry momma, I got a cool washcloth for you. Don't cry mamma, don't cry* Emotional pain is not a curse, but a guide to accept the truth. I know, sweet, I know, it's very hard, I have the raw heart to prove that I know it.
Read these words and know them. Do not analyze or ponder. When you read the words, *know* what they mean. Only then will we be ready to begin the growth in earnest.
our sweet chow/spaniel(...I miss you Jesse*yelp/grow*), our first love telling us how much she likes the new "best friend"(She liked his long hair*snap/grow*). We have to grow up so quickly nowadaze. I grew up in one year. It was the year my father died. The year of hollowness, grief and unendurable spectacles of agony. He was gone, mom was obliterated, I was all that was left. I not only bore the responsibility to show the world a good, strong and kind Umberger. One untouched by the shame and misery that poisons our nation, the hellish cries of the past, the return of what was supposed to !*!NEVER!*! happen !*!AGAIN!*!. What disgrace, oh what an agonizing shame it is know that I live in a world where GENOCIDE is appeased with bloated indifference to the only thing that matter:FREEDOM! If you deny others their FREEDOM, yours curdles and sloughs off of you before you can reload. And then we are there, all around, all power, all pieces of justice, and then shoot you in the fucking head, because you are not worthy of associating all that we know and love. My blood burns for the blood in Africa, in Darfur*split/grow*(please hold-on, we're still growing), and my heart pumps enough of the outrage I feel to bring them all back(I would do it...if only I could :X). I bore not only the responsibility of *being* the legendary kindness of an Umberger, but also the responsibility of me raising me so mom could survive without Steven. Her heart had to grow 19 years worth of pain, and all in one instant *wail* it was over. Of course, this was too much, so instead she just suffered the same intense agony of the moment every night for ten years*don't worry momma, I got a cool washcloth for you. Don't cry mamma, don't cry* Emotional pain is not a curse, but a guide to accept the truth. I know, sweet, I know, it's very hard, I have the raw heart to prove that I know it.
Read these words and know them. Do not analyze or ponder. When you read the words, *know* what they mean. Only then will we be ready to begin the growth in earnest.