Friday, February 24, 2017

Broken

I am not who I used to be.

I wonder if you notice. I don't think you do.

A part of me is forever gone, it will not come back. I have spent the better part of a decade attempting to find it again - it no longer exists.

I don't really know how we got here. The memories only exist like flashes of lightning - coming on quickly and leaving with the sound of thunder.

See I think I was trying to find out who I was when I met you. And it was fate.

And without you I couldn't be who I now am. Because this is who I was always meant to be.

Now we are two people who are on different roads. Every now and then the roads come to an intersection, and we wave and say hello.

Pieces of me have to stay locked away. I know I am not an innocent party in all of this. I am just as much to blame as anyone.

I wear an armor of humor, an armor of laughter.

I have drifted far away. I can't help it. The flesh that I bore is broken, and so I am broken.

No matter of time or love or anything will put that brokeness back together. It is something I just have to live with.

But your presence is like a strain on any hope of joy I have - for you are part of the broken - because you are broken too.

This house is broken. I can now only manage a few of the pieces of it that sometimes cut me as I try.

We have lived in a semi-conscious state of mutual survival for a decade now. I am tired. You are tired.

The damage is done.

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