it is only

when i am broken,

i discover myself,

how the pieces of mine

came about,

how the brokenness

made me whole

again.

holding my breath,

closed my eyes,

counting my blessings,

listing down my times,

i realised myself

after

i was shattered

into million pieces,

smithereens,

most of them were dust,

some of them were nothingness.

i have lost

a lot

during the tug-of-war

with life

when i was unconscious,

self-made,

destructive.

never have i realised,

i have so much to lose

and have so little to gain,

little did i know,

i lost so much time

because of my foolishness,

because of my shortcomings,

because of my negativity,

because of my denial,

i have lost,

i am broken.

broken.

lost.

defeated.

i admit.

i was broken

i have learned,

i have grown,

i am not going back

into that state

of dejection,

of defeat,

of disgrace.

those small pieces of me

as i re-gathered them

something deep in me

told me to chug them away,

in order to start anew.

i felt the same.

the pieces of me

reflected the worst of me,

projected the wretched me,

giving false hope.

i learn

from picking up

the pieces of mine

broken.

what if

i could rewrite the stars

so that they could be mine.

i can.

i must do so.

recollecting the good pieces,

relearning the bad pieces,

although those shards

can hurt me,

i am fearless

as i am doing this

for myself

to improve myself.

this is a bridge of life

where i must cross

myself

with the help of God.

If i could not even cross this obstacle,

living would bear no meaning

except nothingness.

i have to pass this hurdle

in order to

acquire a greater me.

time is short

and i have wasted

most of my time.

i need to wake up.

God,

.

.

.

I opened my eyes, pried widely into a reality that I avoided for ages. Tiredness, lethargy attempted to knock me back to my reverie. The looming shadow of depression was circling around my head, like a vulture, ready to prey on my feeble soul. Harshness of reality pushed me out of my fetal position, pain grew in me, I was able to feel, again.

Quivering, I got up to my feet, realising that I was still alive. Determination and grit was painted across my face, emblazoned in my very soul. Deluged with darkness, I stood my ground, putting up a fight with the enemies of mine- me.

What are the odds? I thought as I deftly reacted with a coup de grace to my past- a broken, destructive, negative piece of shit.

Craving for more? Down below:
sixth sense #26
re: sense five #25
Fall, Hard. #24
re: sense four #23
define catharsis #22
catharsis reasoning #21
catharsis vision 20#20

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