I lost my arm strength at the age of 16 because of torn muscles from helping a "friend" move out of his house. My biceps and triceps on both arms tore, my lateral on my right side tore as well. This crippled my career ideas of professional power-lifter and United States Marine. I later nearly lost my fingers on my left hand due to an incident with glass and permanently damaged the nerves in it. The right hand received nerve damage from a construction injury.

I lost the ability to draw, to lift, to even follow my dreams. Depression struck and I lashed out. This went on for years.

I attempted suicide twice, failed both times. The nerve damage in my hands that caused me to contemplate and inevitably attempt suicide is ironically what prevented me from succeeding. I couldn't cut deep enough through my skin to reach important veins and arteries. Invariably it made me happier and more content with life, knowing that I couldn't hurt myself was somehow comforting. 

I came to accept that the world is still beautiful, even without what I had worked hard to achieve. I came to appreciate the little things much more. I still find it weird that, to this day, Tragedy is what made me appreciate Beauty.