Unbreakable

To be unbreakable, you must regard whatever bothers you is merely a temporary phase in a long development of your strong, unbreakable character. Take one step back and be philosophical about it. For example, take today's crappy and carping comments from two small minds about the nature and purpose of your work for Vietnam. Come on, what you and your friends have done is tiny, minuscule and frankly doesn't merit the envy, suspicion, and the nasty comments. You were very surprised when they arrived since you couldn't believe how people would and could misperceive the purity of the motives. You were not that upset; you were merely annoyed at the all-too-human exhibition of self-projection. You moved on, however (but did you really? All unpleasant experiences got stuck like pieces of iron to that magnet mind of yours).

To be unbreakable means you would not be petty-minded like your self-appointed commentators. You are strong and you will act strong. The funny thing is that you thought you would be the one who was afflicted with and tormented by pettiness, but now these two and at least four (simian, hypocrite, poorly brought up, and womanizer) other assholes made you realize that you are actually more broad-minded than they are. That should tell you that you should not ever feel so bad about yourself. If you look down the cesspool, you will always find writhing maggots.

Then you passed out. When you came to, two weeks later, in a hospital, you found flowers in your room and her letter on the side table next to your bed.

"Roberto, they told me they didn't know if you would last till morning. You lost so much blood. They were not sure if you would be able to walk again. I told them you must live and I did't care you couldn't walk, but your mind must be okay and you must still be able to talk. Gosh, how can I live if I can't hear your voice, that unmistakeable, strangely seductive stuttering voice of yours which has imparted to me much wisdom and poetic phrasings? I love you so much, Roberto. There's no
one else in this world but you and me, don't you know that? Please don't leave me
alone here. By all the powers of light and darkness, please, please don't leave me
alone.

I am sure you have heard of the Stockholm syndrome. Let us not thank some hypothetical God. Instead, rest and gain strength for the new campaign.

Be strong. And always remember I always love you. My love is real. It's not a teenager's crush.

Your girl."

You scowled when the physical therapist humored you. It took almost all morning to walk up and down the corridor. They moved you from Demoral to oral Percodan. You tried visualization, white knights on white horses arriving in battalions to chase the black demons of pain away.

You stayed on for two more weeks until you would walk with a cane and the
bandages came off. She came to see you everyday, after class. She was then a college freshman, majoring in English. She would leave when you fell asleep in the
evening. Then you were given a new placement, sent home with a thirty-day
prescription for Percodan. She wanted to know the name of the asshole who shot you and where he lived. You told her nobody would do the job for you. As soon
as you could walk and then run, you would go to the range for practice. Unlike him, you would not miss the vital areas. She said she wanted to come along. You
said, don't be silly, don't be crazy like me.