Pt 5.

So, to take a quick break from this, I didn't realize that this story, the story of my life, would take so long to type. I apologize for the length. And I thank you for reading. I felt that it needed to be written. That being said, back to the story.
One day at lunch, I sat down at a different table. I had been fighting with friends and needed to sit somewhere else. There was a girl I knew named Karley who was friendly to me. So I sat with her.
I hadn't eaten that week. It was Wednesday. As I sat there, a pretty blonde haired girl asked me why I didn't have a lunch. I wanted to cry. I told her I lost my card, rather than admit that I was broke. I didn't want to say that I told my parents I ate at practice so that everyone else had more food. She looked at me and gave me her fries. I had to hide my eyes for a minute. It was so tough to not cry.
I started talking to this girl a bit more. She was really nice. At the same time, I met another girl. She was hurting. And bad. I saw her eyes and it was like looking in a mirror. I never thought that anyone else might hurt like I did.So the first girl we'll name Isobella. The second will be called Jane. The first girl I started to hug every day. Her hugs were nice. She kind of bothered me sometimes by pulling my hair. She was amazed by how curly it was. I hated my hair. I never had time to wash it and brush it. I missed being bald.
I also hugged Jane every day. These hugs are the ones that I couldn't wait for.
She was struggling bad. She started opening up to me around Christmas time. Her dad was an alcoholic. Her dad also abused her mother. Her brothers were mean to her. She had confidence issues, despite being beautiful. Isobella was exactly the opposite. She always seemed happy. Always smiling and laughing. For my birthday, she made a cake for me. I thought it was sweet. A month later, we got together and unofficially dated.
Through the whole relationship, I struggled. I didn't want to tell her much about me. She was way too good for me. She was rich, pretty, popular, basically perfect. I was poor, an outsider, and scared. I didn't want to ruin it.
Jane was getting worse. She told me she cut. When she told me that, I couldn't tell her that I did too. It hurt too much. But I did cut. My wrists and arms are full of scars. Thank God I worked on a farm. Great cover story. There were nights that I stayed up all night with her. Praying that she would stay alive. She was my weakness. But she also knew when I was hurting just by my smile. She could tell almost instantly what I was feeling. I could do the same for her. We would write letters back and forth. To encourage each other in class. I finally was starting to feel a little better.
She became a center of my life too. She brought me back to my faith in God. I got a job as a camp counselor. Some nights she had to stay up all night with me. That summer was hard.
I got fired from the camp. One of my fellow counselors was stuck in Peoria and was about to call an abusive boyfriend to come get her. I took the camp truck and picked her up. I did this as a last resort. All of my bosses were either too busy or out of town. The next day I was fired.
It hurt. I got fired for a good deed. It made me bitter. I kind of started hating Christians. They were so judgmental.
I also had to switch schools. I wasn't responsible enough to keep going to my school. I had to go to ROWVA. I hate ROWVA. I really do. The only good thing I did there was make a ring for my girlfriend and graduate a semester early. I also went on the weekend. The weekend is a retreat for teens that I was tricked into saying yes. My girlfriend had lied to me about it. And laughed about it when she dropped me off. I was so mad. I considered breaking up with her over it. I can't say much about the weekend. Sorry, but I'd get in trouble.
I hated the weekend the first time I went. It was more because I was so hurt, I didn't care what went on.
The following spring, I was on the team for it. I had an amazing team weekend. I grew very close to a few people, namely Sergio, Donny, and Jason. I made life friends out of this. It was worth going to.
This past summer was a long one. I got fired from another job. I started fighting again. I was clean though. No pills. No cutting. No drinking even. All for Isobella. I loved her. And still do. She knows. I got into a fight with my father. This followed a break up. Isobella and I broke up.
He kicked me out. I started walking with two bags of clothes. And a box that had been made for me by Isobella. I don't know why, but that box was my priority. On my way down a two lane highway, I got a call from a friend. He said to come over early if I wanted. I said I was walking with my things because I just got kicked out. He said he'd meet me in the driveway.
As soon as I hung up, a man pulled up and asked if I wanted a ride. I said sure. He took me to Donny's house. I saw Donny waiting with water for me and started crying. It hurt to realize that I was loved.
I stayed the night at his house. The next day, I called another friend. I asked if I could drop my stuff off at his place so I could find somewhere to live without having to carry my stuff around town. He said sure, and that his Ma would be waiting for me.
I get there and was told to unpack downstairs. His Ma said I know the rules and where everything goes. This broke my heart.
School started a month later.

There's one more part to this story. Thanks for hanging in there guys. Thanks for reading.
Again, Thank you.
Tyler.

Pt 4

That Christmas was rough. We'd just gotten into a house. We didn't really get presents. My siblings were upset. I didn't care.
I made a New Years resolution. I wasn't going to get hurt that year. No injuries. I lasted nine days.
I volunteered to help a church. They had furniture that needed moved in their thrift store. I was carrying a pedestal and I tripped on a weather rug. I fell on top of the pedestal. On top of my hand. It exploded two of my fingers. Broke everything else in the hand and wrist.
The funny part of this is that I crushed my left hand. I am and always have been left-handed. I'm a lucky guy. They prescribed me heavy painkillers and muscle relaxers.
I got to school and sold most of them. I made a lot of money off of it. This was sophomore year of high school. I was a student leader at my church.
I'm still ashamed of this.
A week later and I had my surgery to put my hand together. All the while up to the surgery I was asked if I was sure I was left-handed. They planned on amputating the two fingers that were the worst. They were my middle and index finger.
I held fast. I am left-handed.
After the surgery, I slept. I had a huge bandage on my hand. I had no idea what my hand looked like. I was terrified. I just know it hurt. And bad. I snapped a leg in half without a tear. Walked on it for a day, again, with no tears. Physical pain never really bothered me. Boxing and wrestling make you tough. But this hurt.
When they took off the bandage, I cried. They shortened all of my fingers. The two that were the worst looked disgusting. It was hard.
Therapy was grueling. I hated every second of it. I pulled every stitch. The therapist never touched my hand after the first time. She jabbed a q-tip into the open end of my middle finger. Not the best sensation. So I did everything. I pulled stitches. I cleaned the fingers. She just watched. I guess I'm stubborn.
I don't guess. I am stubborn. I still refused to take the pills. I liked them too much. And needed money.
I didn't let the fingers heal before I started lifting weights again. I started wrestling again. I didn't box, because those fingers didn't like bending much.
My hand now has bad arthritis. And I only just recently regained feeling in two of my fingers. Took three years to fix that. After the end of school that year, we moved to Illinois again. We stayed at my grandmother's house. In a tent. Six people. She didn't have room inside in her 4 bedroom house to fit all of us. So she bought a $300 tent instead of helping us get in a house.
I started becoming more and more bitter. We finally made it into a house. School started.
I was alone again. No friends, except people who remembered me negatively.
I wrestled. I hated my classes. I rarely ate lunch because I had no money. Or lunch card. I also broke up with my girlfriend in that time. A week before our two year anniversary. I couldn't keep it going.
I hated myself for it. I completely broke ties with her.
I still regret that. She had kept me alive and sane more nights than she'll ever know. I still love her a bit. I miss talking to her. maybe someday.
At school, I wasn't eating. At home, I wasn't eating. I lost 40 pounds. I started cutting again. And wishing I had painkillers. I was down. Bad bad. Until one day at lunch.
I'll continue tomorrow.
Thanks.
Tyler.

pt 3.

So this girl and I decided to stick it out, even though I was moving out of state.
Sounds like a normal teenage thing, right? I called her every time I could. I would take my parents phone in the middle of the night and call her. We stayed strong. Sent letters often. I started playing football again.
We were terrible. Won like twice.At the end of the season, I broke my collarbone. It hurt.
But I didn't take the pills. I refused them. For her. It felt right. The night after they broke, I stayed up all night talking to her on the phone. She had school the next day, but she still stayed up. I felt loved.
That was an odd feeling. Someone loved me enough to stay up all night with me, despite school the next day. Wow. I was always an outsider. i had a blue spiked mohawk. I was big. I was mean. I didn't talk to anyone. I was scared of people. I didn't want to get close and have it ripped away from me. Again.
Like I had predicted, we moved. Back to Alabama. I was so happy. We moved about an hour and a half away from my girlfriend. I hated the school I went to though. It was so small.
I was a celebrity in a small way. I was quiet. And smart. Teachers were amazed at how smart I was. I was used to that part though. Teachers at every school were like that. Bothered me sometimes...
It was a source of insecurity knowing that I was smarter than most other students. Set me apart from the rest of the kids.
I was at this school for the rest of freshmen year and the beginning of sophomore year. The summer in between was amazing though. I spent a month with my grandma who lived by my girlfriend. I spent a month over at my girlfriend's house. I loved it. We had so much fun. We took walks, talked to each other, spent hours just holding each other.
She cooked for me, I cooked for her. We watched funny videos. We watched tons of movies. We got close. We also got physical. Started kissing. Then making out. Then touching. We started going a bit too far. It scared me, but I didn't care. We "loved" each other. And never saw each other, so we may as well make up for it, right?
It came time for me to go home. I was upset. But I went. I needed to be home. School was coming soon. I started playing football again. I did well, and then joined cross country too. I ended up fracturing my leg and couldn't play either sport. It sucked. I had nothing to keep me busy.
And then we moved. This time back to my hometown in Florida.
We lived in an 86 Suburban. Six of us. And a dog. We showered in the bathrooms at walmarts and at gas stations. We drove church to church for gas and food. It was hard. I hated it. We got to Naples, and a church put us up in a hotel. It was the first time in weeks I'd really showered. And had room to stretch out.
I hated the hotel. It felt like charity. We were living on handouts. I am a proud person. I have issues letting people help me. And being homeless and living off of handouts was tough on me.
We went to a soup kitchen. It hurt. The homeless would let us go to the front of the line because we were a family. They would give us their desserts because we were kids. I hated myself. These people who had nothing put us before themselves. I guess I've learned not everyone is bad.
To be continued tomorrow.
Thanks.
Tyler.

My Life.

I know a song that says, "He's the kid with a story no one would believe."
I've been told by a few people that have heard my story that if it came from anyone else, they'd disregard it. They'd say I was lying.
Lately, I've felt oddly compelled to share it. I'll most likely leave some things out. Definitely names, etc. Any names that appear in here will either be changed, or I'll have permission to use their names.
Some of this story is bad. Some good. Some happy. Some sad. A lot of it hurts. Thanks for reading.

My name is Tyler. I was born in Naples, Florida. The day was the 5th of February. My dad, Craig, was fifteen years old. His girlfriend was eighteen. Her name will be left out. A little less than two years later, my brother was born. His name is Zach. Before his birth, my father and his girlfriend split up. At Zach's birth, my father was absent. Because of this, he isn't on my brother's birth certificate. At the birth, there was a question over the identity of the father of Zach. Now, there's no mistaking the fact that Zach is his son. They're nearly identical.
At this point, Zach and I lived with our birth mother and her boyfriend. Pretty soon a pretty little girl named Kaylee was born. I was about three.
After Kaylee was born, Mom's boyfriend began abusing my brother and I. Heavily. I lost some vision. My brother is nearly deaf. He has a total of 3% hearing in his right ear. That's it. Nothing in the left. This left him with a bad speech impediment also.
When I was about four, my mother called my dad and said she couldn't take care of us. We cost too much money, and she didn't want us. At least she admitted it, I guess.
My father would come down randomly to visit (we lived in Arkansas and he lived in Illinois/all over the place at the time) and would always have toys and such for us, so when I was told Dad was coming, I was so happy. I couldn't wait.
When dad got there, I realized my brother and I had a bag of clothes packed. I thought it meant we were going to stay with Dad a while, so I was still really happy. This was going to be an adventure.
It turned into a permanent adventure. When we got to Illinois, my brother and I slept on the kitchen floor of Dad's apartment. Dad had a girlfriend. I hated her. She was too motherly. I remember my dad leaving for work every morning and remember him coming home and I'd already be in bed. He'd smell like grease and metal from the factory he worked at. We moved out of that apartment pretty fast. We ended up in a small house, but Zach and I had a room. We shared it, grudgingly (at 5 and 3 yrs old, we didn't like each other much), but we shared.
I started school. I lived in Galesburg and went to Nielson, although Silas Willard was two houses down from where we lived. I hated Nielson. I got into trouble a lot. I had issues with authority. I attacked my teacher a few times. Got suspended tons. Then, my teacher figured out I needed to be challenged. I was a very smart and precocious child. I was gifted at reading. My teacher figured this out fast. She started challenging me, saying I couldn't pass a quiz on a story. So I proved her wrong.
At the end of kindergarten, I was given the first Harry Potter book. I hated this book. I had to read a chapter out loud before I could eat lunch during that summer. I loved food. Still do. It was torture to read before eating. Pretty soon, I finished the first book. And I received the second one. I finished this one during first grade. After first grade, I got switched schools. Started going to Silas Willard. I hated Illinois. We spent every summer in Florida. Florida was my home.
I didn't make many friends in second grade. I was teased for being fat. I became a bully.
This carried on through third grade, our move back to Naples, fourth grade at The Vineyards (super nice private school), fifth grade at Laurel Oaks (another awesome school) and sixth grade.
Sixth grade was a big year. I started making some friends. We lived in apartments. I discovered I liked playing football with the neighborhood kids. These kids weren't the best influences. I started fighting. Figured out I can fight really well. Really well.
On a brighter side, I started in Orchestra. Picked up the string bass, viola, and violin. I continued playing those for years.
In sixth grade, I brought a knife to school. I didn't mean to hurt anyone. I got caught, In Florida, that's a felony charge if you're in high school. I got expelled. Banned from public schools in Collier County for two years. I went to a school called Phoenix. We were the bad kids. The ones who weren't right for public schools. I had to get up at 4 am because school started at 5. This lasted two months.
Finally, dad decided we needed to move. At the time, he was running a huge towing business. We had lots of money, and never needed anything. But he wanted me in normal school, so I could learn.
We moved to Illinois. I started football. I was starting nose guard. I was good. Very good. But I got into fights. After season, a kid hit me in the side of the face with a metal art stool. I turned around and broke his nose. Got expelled because he bled. We moved to Alabama.
That's part 1. I'll finish it tomorrow.
Thanks.
Tyler

Pt 2

We moved to Alabama. I was in 7th grade. I tested into mostly 8th grade classes.
I was an outsider. Nobody at the school really wanted to talk to me. I hated it. I finally found a few guys to hang out with. They weren't the best. I joined a gang. I found myself changing. I grew colder. I grew angry. I started to hate my father for never having money. I was tired of being the poor kid with secondhand clothes. I was at the age where I realized that the boxes of food we got came from food pantries. I realized that food stamps were looked down on pretty heavily.
I hated my parents for it. I ignored that it's hard to support four kids. I didn't care that Dad worked more than 80 hrs a week at a factory to pay for things.
I started slipping into depression. I started fights over nothing. I kept getting worse. I started cutting my wrists.
It felt good. Looking back, I hate those scars. I wish I hadn't done it.
I also started drinking. I would even bring it to school. Eighth grade I would brink alcohol to wrestling practice/school. My parents never suspected. I had straight A's. I was always smiling around them. I was a model child in their presence.
Halfway through wrestling season, I snapped my leg in half at a birthday party. It put me out for the season. I was on a track to state. I was doing extremely well. The broken leg ruined my season. It broke my heart.
Then I discovered painkillers.
I liked them.
They felt good.
They made me not care.
They made me invincible.
They were also easy to sell.
Yeah. Tyler, straight A student, bookworm, athlete, sold pills.
When my leg healed, I stopped.
Halfway through eighth grade, we moved schools. We were one town away. I found a girl. Her name was Christina. She was amazing. It was puppy love. She even got me to go to church.
The first youth group I went to, there was a big guy with red hair, and a red beard. He jumped up. He was a big guy. Like 300 lbs, 6'1". Big. He grabbed my hand, and hugged me. Said, "Welcome Brother."
He didn't treat me like an outsider. I was welcome. The people were all nice. It was amazing. I felt at home. I found Santuck Baptist Church.
I was slightly happy again.
Then Christina and I split up. Right before summer break. It hurt. I kept going to church. I avoided her. Then it was high school time.
I started out my high school career at Elmore County High School. We were the Panthers. I also joined JROTC. I was going to join the military. At school, I had some fun. I started getting in trouble again though.
At home, my family was falling apart. Dad lost his factory job. He started working for a well company. Then lost that job. He then turned to things a little shadier.
At school, I started talking to a girl. She was beautiful. She really liked me. We got along beautifully.
I also made good friends. We caused all sorts of trouble. I even got a tattoo on my finger at lunch one day.
We were crazy.
Then, I found out I was moving. It broke my heart. I fell back into depression again. Bad. The girl I was talking to had said yes to date me. I was crushed.




I'll continue this tomorrow. It's getting late.
Thanks.
Tyler

I missed it.

So the other night, I was reading someone else's blog. It made me realize that I had lost my best friend. This is a girl who was someone I could always talk to. I could say anything to her. She's one of the few people I feel totally comfortable with.
I realized that I missed how we would text all of the time. And I missed all of our little inside jokes that confused everyone else. I missed spending time with her. I missed taking random picnics (forgetting cups, silverware and napkins sometimes). I missed it. All of it.
Sunday morning, I learned about myself a bit. I learned that spending time with me is the best way to show love to me. Her and I drifted because we never had time. And when we were together, we didn't spend time with others. This put a wedge between us, and we started fighting. I started treating her badly. She returned the favor.
It hurt to look back on how we used to be.
A lot.
So much that I decided to ostracize myself from her. I deleted her number, blocked her on facebook, etc. I even ignored her when she'd walk past me. Yeah. Tyler, the super nice guy did that. The student leader of a Christian organization. Think of me as you will. You won't think of me any worse for it than I already do.
I'm ashamed. So Sunday night, I had an opportunity to see her and talk to her. I did.
I told her I missed her. I explained what my life has been like recently. Asked about hers.  She told me about some of her struggles. Apologized to me.
At her apology, my heart broke. I was the one who messed up. I'm the one who did everything I could to avoid her. I was the one who gave up. I fail to see the reason in things sometimes. She told me she missed what we used to be like, too. She missed telling me everything. She missed my smiles. She missed my jokes. She missed spending time with me.
Only after I had stepped back and surrendered to the situation did anything happen to alleviate it. Sometimes, you just have to let go of things, and not try and control everything.
We're talking again. We understand more of what went wrong. Hopefully this keeps getting better.
Thanks.
Tyler

Brother

There's a man I know who is just amazing. He has a gift for talking to people. He has kind of  taken me in. He knows what I've been through and how I've had family problems. Lots of them.
He understands. Over the past weekend, he spoke some words to me that hurt. Frankly, some of them were a slap to the face.
Were they true? Yes.
Did I need to hear them? Yes.
Am I grateful? More than I have been in a long time.
He explained that I'm in a time of change. And told me to get over what I've been feeling. To get over the pain, the hurt, everything, and move on. He said what I didn't want to think.
I used to call him Grandpa. It's an old joke because he's older than I am. But really, he's my brother. He's the older brother I needed so much when I was younger. He's the brother who will tell me I'm being stupid. He's a brother.
This post is just a thank you to him. He knows who he is. And will be surprised at work tomorrow.
Thanks.
Tyler.

Eye of the storm

I heard a song today. I saw it in the form of a steam punk style video. It's called "Eye of the Storm" by Lovett. Listen to it, watch it, etc. It's worth it.
It made me think. The video has a man who's a captain of an airship. He's flying and a storm pops up.
I'm going through a storm right now. I'm a wreck. I'm lost. I've been trying to figure everything out. I lost a relationship that served as my main emotional support. Then got kicked out. Then everything seemed to go downhill from there.
I spent about half of my childhood in Florida. I remember big hurricanes and how everything went. First, everything would get bad. Winds would start up, it would pour down rain. You could watch gutters get ripped off of walls, and drains flood, and trees fall down. The world seemed to tear itself apart.
Then, the sky would change colors and it would be eerily quiet.
It meant halfway. It was a time where my siblings and I would step out and look at the carnage. I seem to be at that spot in my life right now. When the eye of the hurricane would hit, it was a sign of hope. It meant we were halfway through.
Now that I'm at this point, I'm looking for what can be salvaged.
I look at my life, and it seems pretty wrecked. There isn't much left undamaged. The two biggest parts of my life were what i lost a few months back and it seems that the majority of my life depended on them. Kind of hard to face.
I know I'll find things that can be salvaged though. I know that I've already made it through this storm this far. I don't know how this story ends. I couldn't tell you. I'm not even sure myself. I'm resisting those thoughts that end with a click.I'm still fighting. I can do this.
Thanks.
Tyler.

Cracks

Ever feel like you're falling down? Farther and farther, so far that there seems to be no more light from above?
Some people don't. Or they don't show it. One of the two. I figured out that I'm a really good actor. Most people can't tell what mood I'm actually in. Sometimes it bothers me. Lately, I can't seem to fake it. I can't seem to keep that big smile on my face. I guess the cracks are showing through.
It's hit me pretty hard lately that I can't even show my closest friends what I'm feeling. People I love and really do trust, I just haven't been able to let them in.
I feel driven to be a pillar of strength for the people around me. I feel like others' needs should be ahead of mine. Always. I feel everyone else is more important than I am. I feel that everyone else around me needs to be happy before I can be happy.
I guess I am a little depressed. These past few weeks, I've been under so much strain. Between mechanical issues, housing issues, relationship issues, and many other things, I've been cracking. I haven't been able to be strong for those around me. To the friends that I normally am always there for and haven't been recently, I'm sorry. I truly am. To my loved ones that I've been letting down, I'm sorry.
I'm sorry to everyone around me. I haven't been here and present. I've been dwelling too much on what's going wrong. I've ignored my problems and let them build up until I can't deal with them. I put myself under so much strain that I've trapped myself in a hole.
I've let myself start falling.
I'm posting this for a few reasons. One, As an apology for how I've been recently. Two, as a warning to anyone in a situation similar to mine. I don't want to see anyone else fall like I have been. Nobody should ever have to feel trapped in a corner in their life. Three, because it needed to get out. Call me selfish, but things like this need to get out. We can't hold things like this in. When we do, we set ourselves up to break down.
Thanks.
Tyler.

Blind

You ever feel like someone is blind to what you feel?
I ask this in a few ways. First, with how they treat you.
Know someone who seems to disregard you and mistreat you, seemingly unknowingly? They say and do things around you that are hurtful, yet you can't do anything. I have an acquaintance who is a nice guy, but he says things around me that really hurt. He insults my family, my southern roots, everything. And I can't say a word because it would hurt his feelings.
Second, when you trust them with your whole heart, and they don't let you even see a crack in the walls they've built.
I'm guilty of this. I don't trust easily. And people trust me. I hate when someone tells me secrets and I can't confide anything in them because I'm scared. I feel like there are a few too many cracks in my heart to let someone else feel what I feel. I feel like a jerk.
And the worst one, when you have feelings for someone and they can't tell (or just don't want to.)
It happens. At least to most people. I know it happens to me. A very close friend of mine seems to be struggling with this exact thing. There's a girl he's been enamored with for months. He's invited her home, taken her to ice cream, the works, and she just chases after other guys. It hurts him. He's almost at the point he wants to give up. I can't even give him advice, because I don't know what I would do. It kills me to watch him suffer,  because he's like a brother to me. I feel like anything I tell him could go wrong and blow up in our faces and make the situation worse. Am I being cynical? Maybe a little, but still I don't want it getting any worse for him.
I think we need to pay more attention to other people's feelings. I know I do. You guys are probably all perfect, but between you and yourself, do you ignore other people's feelings?
Thanks,
Tyler.

Courage

"Lend me your courage to stand up and fight."
I can truthfully say that I'm scared. A lot has happened this week. My stepmother and three siblings told me tonight that I've lost myself. And that I'm not part of the family. My father has to leave to get away from my stepmother. He'll be out of state.
As much as I used to hate him, and I mean hate him, He's become my hero. I've learned so much from him. He's made me realize what responsibility truly is. I watched this man work 18 hour days for months to get us kids clothes and food. He's gone without eating so we could. He now works his hands to the bones separating scrap metal because he can't find a job. He disregards his own health and well-being to make sure everyone else is happy.
And I'm scared. He's going to be gone out of state. I'm scared because I don't feel like I'm good enough to even try to walk in his shoes. I know I'm not. I could never do what he's done. And I feel like a failure.
Am I? I guess not. But it sure feels like it.
I don't know what I'll do. I'm paralyzed with fear. I have just over a month and I have to be out of the house I'm living. With Dad gone, I can't even think about going back to that house. My job doesn't pay enough for a house or even an apartment.
I'm scared to fight. I don't know how I'll get through this.
I need courage though. I need to keep being as brave as what my face shows. I need to be the man I was raised to be. I was raised to be strong. Raised to be courageous. Raised to sacrifice.
You know what? This hurts. I'll admit it. Tyler Fox. The Beard. Admitting pain. It hurts. But I will make it. I can.
Thanks.
Tyler.