Broken. I feel broken. I feel like my world has been shattered, like a mirror after someone punched it. I look in the mirror and all I see is fragmented pieces of myself. Who am I? I feel like my identity  has changed so much in the last 3 years. I feel like my body and soul are just floating in space, separated from each other. I see my brown eyes, my long hair, they both come together, like puzzle pieces; but the puzzle is incomplete. I feel like people can see right through me, like see all my vulnerabilities, all my flaws; as though some parts of me are naked, exposed to the world. But even so, it’s still an incomplete picture. But despite seeing me, nobody understands me. Nobody understands the anxious thoughts, running through my mind, like wild horses, uncontrollable; just running through the wrinkles in my brain. I feel like an incompetent cowboy, attempting to wrangle these thoughts in, make them obey my command. But it’s of no use- no matter how hard I try, everything still feels broken.
It’s as though someone just dropped glasses on the kitchen floor, and nobody wanted to spend any time picking up all the tiny pieces of hopes, dreams, and memories. So now everything is just disheveled, able to hurt people who try to pick up the pieces. Some days it’s easy to just carefully glide through the shards of glass. But other days, it feels like I’m cutting myself every second, looking through the mess, trying to pick up the things that are most important and leave everything else behind. Trying to rebuild, make a new me. But healing can be so hard these days. Trust me, I’ve made lots of progress, and I work on myself each and every day, but sometimes it just doesn’t feel like enough. Sometimes it feels like I just don’t have the strength anymore. But I will still try, each and every day, because I have come this far and I don’t see myself giving up hope just yet. I still believe that I will be able to pick up all of the pieces and create a meaningful piece of artwork with them.