Sunday, November 16, 2008

There was a boy who once was hopeful. He had an idea of how life would turn out for him, and he wasn’t dissatisfied with his future. Wrong turn after wrong turn made him a harder person, and sometimes his reticence would spell out hurt for those closest to him, and he knew this. This hurt them, and him knowing hurt him. He spoke a lot of empty words.

There was a girl who had done things she had not been proud of in the past. Her ghosts kept haunting her, because she felt she would never be good enough to erase what she had done, and that she would never grow. She sometimes told herself she was crazy, and that people would never waste their time with her if they knew. She was dearly loved.

There was a mother who once had a son. This mother loved that her son involved her in his life. She would know all about his friends, and his inspirations. Life was blissful. But they were not to last: in time, he drew away and became sullen, unresponsive, and critical. She taught him the meaning of the word anger, because she always told him never to show it. She put a picture of her family by the living room, because that’s when she would see them the most often.

There was once a friend who believed in all that was the Good Book. Street-wise and world-weary, she had sought the elusive thing people call God with fervor, for years and years. Bit by bit the world chipped away at her rock-like stance, and it tired her so. One might not have noticed the hairline cracks in the beginning, but as time marched on, so too did the cracks widen. She looked to the world and remembered its pleasures and lost a particular glow in her eyes. She had stress lines that were funny to watch.

There was a story about brokenness. It meant confronting your letdowns, your disappointments, your wishes-that-were-never-so. It meant sinking to your knees sometimes and screaming into the night and breaking your hands on the walls and cursing against all that was wrong in the world. Sometimes brokenness meant you had to look in the mirror and understand you were ugly, and that things WERE your fault sometimes. That no, there wasn’t an excuse you could give that would be good enough. Other times it meant you had to let go of your weaknesses and learn to forgive yourself. To one day conveniently forget to keep an eye on your imperfections. God knows we are reminded of them enough.


2 Responses to “Brokenness”

  1. lenniez said

    sheensie poo just sent me a song… the lyrics made me think of ur post.

  2. lor3tta said

    Wow.. poetic truth. Brings a new level of sad but true..

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