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I have been humbled. Though I have been unable to claim many things about myself, humbleness is one thing I can call my own. The world I grew up in was a cold and heartless one. My raised chin was always met with a raised fist, and my eyes almost always knew darkness like a child recognized an old toy or the smile of a friend…of which I had neither. The ruthlessness of life beat itself into me through many masters. First it was my parents, then it was my foster mother and when I turned 18 it was fair game to whoever fate threw at me. I rebelled and raged throughout my years, yearning to tear myself away, from what I thought would be submission, weakness…but it turns out I was never destined to be that strong. Every time I stood, my face found its way back to the dirt. I was tired of the taste of my own coppery blood and my salty tears. I was beaten and broken until I didn’t try to get up again. Now it is a lifeless life I lead, my head forever bowed, never to raise again lest it meets the twisted or the foul. I have been humbled.