The sun beat down on my pale skin as I stepped out of my army green Jeep. You would think hours in the sun would give me some color, but that just wasn't in my blood. Despite it being the Northeast, the summers were just as brutal as the ones in Southern California. Cicadas buzzed from distant trees, adding to the summer feel. 

　　The broken can never be healed. 

　　The same weak cracks will always be there no matter how hard you wish for them to fade.

　　I am facing more grief than I can handle at the moment. Then add on my new professional hockey career and the fact...