I am broken.

Sharp, jagged pieces I have tried to smooth, and put back together to form of me that has been lost. My head is filled with thoughts that I do not want that take me to dark places and lead me down paths of isolation, to reside where my only companion is the pain of my journey.

I was touched by something that changed me, that tainted my vision, rose coloured glasses cracked and smeared till everything around me becomes tainted too.  The tainted poison seeping into everything around it till there is nothing clear, nothing easy. My eyes see everything through the gaze that trauma created. Where the world is no longer bathed in sunshine but overcast with dark clouds of fear.

I am broken, but also tired.

I am tired of trying to be who I was, of trying to be who others want me to be. I am tired of fighting, of fighting to do what my heart wants and needs, yet my head tells me is beyond reach. Tired that my triggers mean I miss the things I wish I could enjoy, carefree, that mean the need of excuses or explanations poured out to confused faces before me. At night Im haunted still by the terrors that rage my heart.

I long to mend the cracks that allow the doubts in, that cause me to fear where I tread. I wish to remove from my mind the voices that whisper to me, that catch my breath and halter my step, to quieten them so I can be free, free to consume life.

Instead wishes go unanswered and I battle on, my fight lonely and without understanding. I battle to be part of this world, to fit with those who take this life and all it has to offer. I long to be free and soar like a bird from its cage now able to spread its wings. But my cage is strong and unrelenting, unwilling to release me. So I push my limits while hiding the struggle within, those around me unaware of the pain.

I am broken and it hurts.

I hurt quietly, while my lie is a smile. I doubt that love will bless me.

Who can love something so broken, so flawed?

Who would wish to share the tainted vision that clouds me?

My brokeness with its limits and boundaries hold others captive as it does me. Plans become broken and scattered like leaves that herald winters arrival. Broken means I carry with me a burden that cannot be shed, a load that at times I feel I cannot bare. To ask the others too bear this load only serves to bring forth guilt and cause me to recoil in self doubt. Stripped of all that I wish I could be, doubting my worth and feeling that I have little to offer.

I am Broken, but I accept it.

I accept that the scars that have healed still cause me pain. I accept that broken is what consumes me and fills my waking hours and dreams. I know that to be broken wasn’t what I asked for and yet the truth is, it is what I am.

I am not alone for there are others too like me broken and wounded, who wander alone, seeking those that can love them despite the scars they bare. They too wish to be without the things that have tainted them and while our battles differ there is a shared sorrow that binds us.

I am broken, but I ask not for pity. Only that you if chose to love me, to be my companion that you help me hold together my broken pieces, that you don’t wish me whole again but love the broken parts of me.

I ask that you see the battle I wage and tell me to keep on fighting. Help me to see my worth and that to you I am worth the struggle. Do not seek to find ways to fix me or make me what you wish me to be, instead see the beauty in my flaws.

Hold me when I am sad and feeling all alone, whisper kindness to quieten my doubts and and lift the clouds that have descended. This is the gold that fills the damage that makes me beautiful once again.

I am broken, but strong, broken but determine, broken but hoping that someday I will be free. Broken but capable of giving so much. My broken pieces I gather together one by one, to craft into wings to carry me free.

I am broken, maybe you’re a little broken too?

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