The Broken

Please, no more. The memories stab through the crevices of her mind. The skin, clammy, the colour of death. The quiet, so deafening, silence now taking the place of jagged breaths. The eyes, abandoned of the light that should fill them. The life that no longer dwells in these windows to the soul. Misery, such devastating, destroying misery takes over. Poisoning any light, any happiness that could save her. “It’s okay, it’s going to be okay, just relax, you will be okay I promise.” Her eyes like glass. So exhausted, but she cannot sleep. Sleep had evaded her for too long now. You can tell by the darkened skin below her eyes. Her look so lost, so full of heartache. It’s nearly the end. No hope left. Her hair lies limp around her face. Once so blonde and full of energy. Her skin, cracked, cracking on the porcelain surface. She was once so happy, always smiling, always laughing. Gasping. She holds on to the hand. Pleading, hoping, yearning for life to endure. Wishing desperately to wake up from this unbearable nightmare. She is crumbling down towards the floor; declaring her pain to the emptiness around her. Nature weeps for this broken child. Her face looks back at her through the mirror. Tears stream, flooding her heart with horrific desolation. The last breath, then nothing. Screaming. Screaming. “Please come back. Don’t leave me.” No more pain. They are in no more pain. “Come back to me.” She pleads for the light to come back to the eyes. Come back to her soul. To her family. She stares back into the mirror. The cracks deepen down her skin; she is breaking apart, dying inside… The slideshow of memories attack her being. The ones she loved. The ones she lost. I stare into the mirror. I stare at my skin. It is my reflection I see before me. “I love you. Come back to me.” (Next Page) You may get to a point when your life will fall apart around you. It may happen slowly and gradually. Giving you time to try and prepare for the upcoming disaster. Or it may happen so suddenly, so unexpectedly, within a night your world, the whole world as far as you know it, is destroyed forever. I have had this experience, not so long ago. It has been two years since my life changed forever. I write to you to tell you my story. Our story. I hope to show you reader that if your life can fall apart around you, completely destroying who you are, that somehow, someway, you can mend yourself again. It may feel like your whole life has shattered into little glass pieces. They lie on the floor near you. And it is you and only you, who can find a way to pick them all up and put them back together again. Hopefully not cutting yourself too deeply in the process. Maybe when you manage to put life back together you put it back another way. Not in the form you first intended, but a form you can be happy with none the less. I intend to put mine back another way. I would be lying if I said I was not terrified, because I am. The shards of glass around me make up my life, and there are only a couple of pieces I can manage to gather. They are travel and writing. So I intend to do both. I have nothing to give anyone; I have nothing to give myself. I have only a desire to be happy. I can only hope I have the strength to make that happen.