I used all the glue I could. The cracks turned into deep pits. I needed a bridge, but there was no one there to help me build it. On the other side there was an empty space, the same one that was there the day before, and every other day previously. Was it possible that this hollow spot had always been there ?

Maybe it was, and I chose to close my eyes. Then mentally I could fill it, stuff it  full with this imaginary life and love. One I knew he wouldn’t give me, nor wanted to.

I gave myself fully to someone that couldn’t do the same. I unintentionally added to my own pain. For some time it pierced through me, like those sneaky thorns on a rose bush. Sometimes a little trickle of blood was left behind, other times maybe just a scratch. Every once in a while it was deep and more than enough to leave a scar behind.

Broken I may have been, every piece unevenly fractured at different points of my life. But was I dead? It may have felt like it, but I was still breathing. And if I’m breathing I can heal and go on.

Shannon

Starting over isn’t easy. Staying is Harder.

Thank you 💖