What doesn't kill you...

People who build you up. People who inspire you. People who break you. People who enter and exit your life without you noticing. People who shape you. People who you help create.

The other night I was conversing with a dear friend of mine when he said, "... I am a master at keeping people well past an arms length from my heart... She not only broke my heart, but my soul as well..." This conversation, these words have lingered in my bones for days. They have dangled like chandelier earrings while I brush my teeth in the mirror each morning. They have massaged my scalp, repeating as I wash, rinse, repeat. It's not the notion, the idea of being broken by someone. I am more than experienced with the devastation rooted in a broken heart. It's the idea that has wedged itself in between the curve of the B, lounging like James Dean on the T. People, and how a person can effect us.

It is wildly debated, does a person have power over us or do we ALLOW them to have power over us. I really don't know how I feel about that. I know that even though I walk around daily with a false bravado and confidence brushing my shoulders like my red curls what people say haunts me. Is that because I ALLOW it to, or because the truth is people are what makes the person?

I can think, without strain, of at least five people who have helped shape me into the woman I am today. A neighbor who let me borrow her sexy romance novels when I was 12. A man who I was too scared to call "Dad." A teacher who taught me to read. A man who engulfed every ounce of me like a Cuban cigar, letting me stain his fingertips and make a home of his lungs, just close enough to his heart to make me feel warm before releasing me into the stale, cool air. Women who inspire me. Women who encourage me. Women who are better than me.

A person is the company they keep. A person is the experiences they have.

I think people need to focus more on what is going on, instead of what is ahead. The stranger sitting two seats in front of you on the bus, the girl who brings you your pasta bowl refill, the boy who rotates your tires... who is the judge on what is significant? Who decides what is significant, and what will or won't effect you years down the line.

I know I carry with me far more than I ever expected from the people who I have crossed paths with. But, at the end of the day it is those things I carry that create the creative, loving, affectionate, ambitious, ruthless woman I am today.

I feel no shame in that. Maybe hesitation. Perhaps a little fear. Even a little resistance. But no shame.