Fragments.

Fragments.

Do you ever sit and take an inventory of all your broken hearts, all your low moments, all the times grief has stricken you down? I do. Sometimes I sit in stillness and the wounds open up and pour back into my heart and into my head and make me believe I am not worth anything. As far as flaws are concerned I have more than I care to admit. I try to right them and then life comes and kicks me down. I haven’t ever really been one to stay down for long but maybe, just maybe, I should have stayed there awhile. Maybe, I should have rested while I was down. Processed. Healed. Mustered my strength then got back up. Instead I stood on a twisted and broken soul and took off running and now I don’t know if I can repair it. I did the same thing to my right ankle. I tumbled down a mountain with a snowboard strapped to my foot and got up and kept snowboarding and walking on it despite the protests it was giving me. Now I can’t rotate my right ankle. I still haven’t gone to a doctor.

I guess another flaw I have is taking all my time healing others and never putting myself back together.  I guess I just hoped the fragmented version of myself would suffice to get me through.

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