I Broke My Wrist

I broke my wrist 6 weeks ago. A part of me was reliving my youth when I use to go to punk shows and mosh. Unfortunately for me when I was 16 I wasn't nearly as strong as I am now and pushing one of my good old friends into the mosh pit resulted in me breaking my wrist in two places. Of course alcohol was involved. I went to see this band called Dayglo Abortions. They were a real blast from my past. I was having such a good time. I had good friends with me. It was my friend Katharine's birthday. (She is such a awesome person and lately kind of a inspiration for me) I felt like I did when I was 16. The only difference I was legal to drink and we were at a bar. I saw so many people that I once knew at the old punks shows I use to go too. All of them 15 years older. The attitude was the same. One of my friends brought a friend with her that wasn't a part of the scene we were in the 90's. He was moshing. I was blown away. This isn't your normal lame ass big concert kind of mosh pit. This is your mohawk, steel boats, kicked in the face type of mosh pit. The kind I loved when I was 16. Anyways I loved the analysis that Chris (who was never a punk) said about mosh pits. He said " I can really understand why this is so much fun for people. You get pushed and you finally can push back". How true is that. I know for most people to see a mosh pit of that kind they would think we are all idiots. ( I am kind of a idiot as I broke my wrist) But we can push back and if you fall everyone around the pit picks you up. There is a huge adrenaline rush that comes with being elbowed in the face listening to punk music blasting at you. Going in a circle elbows up and marching ready to push and push back. I loved doing this in my youth when I was so angry and so insecure. Yes we marched elbows up and we wanted to push and get hurt to the music but we also didn't want to get seriously hurt. No one does that's why there is someone always there to pick you up. I have fallen many times and been picked up by many strangers.

I have my times when I feel like a patched up human being. That no one would like to know this insecure idiot. If people only knew how damaged I am. The truth is I wasn't alone in the mosh pit. I wasn't the only one that was over 30 in that mosh pit. I guess even though I lost my brother and I went through a very hard anxiety disorder, there was other people there that have stuff too. We can put on masks. We can breath and waste our days away. Counting the times the times that we had to learn how to cope with feeling we never imagined we would have to endure. Who are we truly fooling? Ourselves? I think of Markus everyday. Sometimes that thought makes me so sad and sometimes that thought isn't so bad. Sometimes I remember how he has influenced my life. The way he protected me through out my life. I loved him and I still do.

I have been off work for the past 6 weeks. That gives me a lot of time on my hands. When I have been looking in the mirror I can see Markus's eyes in my eyes. We do not look the same but somewhere in my eyes is his. My eyes are smaller and darker but I can see it. I guess it has given me a sense of calm. We were siblings. We are siblings. I still want to make him proud of me. He will always be a part of me. In blood and in my spirit.

Anyways Markus, I love you.