I am from bruised ribs

I am from bad knees, 

I am from the scars on my body.

I am from the eyes that can’t see so well.

I am from my imperfections.

I am from the lands of tea, sea ports, and the famine that my ancestors grew up and survived. 

We are survivors. We are like the lions of our clans.

I am from punches, kicks, throws, and takedowns. 

I do not just dwell on the physical battle but I also dwell on my mental battles,

The long battle for my sanity and my happiness.

I am from the night terrors, and the longs fights and struggles with darkness and depression. 

I am from Michigan, where the lakes are great and glisten in the sun, and the weather is just as indecisive as my grandmother whose memory is slipping, so remember the good times. 

Simpler times.

I am from the, ‘’don't beat yourself up for what you cannot control.’’ 

I am from the sibling rivalries and the constant change in perspective---where time has allowed things grow and become more mature, like love and relationships, instead of fights, and the constant thoughts of disappointment.