What Doesn't Kill You

          I stood at the shore and looked toward the horizon. The sun was just setting making a beautiful orangish-yellow glow across the water's surface. I stared at this sight impassively for a moment. It was beautful, defenitely. I could see it, acknowledge it, but couldn't feel it. Along with my latest epiphany came a body numbing acceptance that I was grateful for.
         I lifted my eyes upwards to the clouds, a wry grin playing across my lips. "I've figured it out," my voice startled some birds that were scuttling nearby sending them to the sky. I'm sure if anyone had walked by at that moment they would surely think I was insane, talking to the sky as if a reply was expected. But I didn't care. Never have given a damn what anyone thinks of me, or of what I do. I am who I am. Wouldn't be anyone else given the chance. I suppose that could be interpreted as vanity. I prefer to call it a realistic viewpoint on the simple fact that everyone is fucked up in one respect or another. I've come this far in the game an I'm beginning to learn a thing or two. No way in Hell would I want to become someone else with a myriad of untold angst. Besides, everything that has happened in my life has made me who I am today. God's personal guinea pig. How many can lay claim to that bit of "specialness," hm?
          I nodded my head an continued, "I've found my raison d'être or rather my raison de ne pas être."
         I was feeling pretty proud of myself. Hmm, pride, a deadly sin indeed. Not that it matters one whit to me. A damned soul is a damned soul no matter the size of the sin. And it seems I was damned from the get go. I believe I was created for the sole purpose of testing the theory, "What doesn't kill you only makes you stronger." It seems God was curious so he built an expendable toy to test how much a human spirit can withstand before breaking.