Broken


Some days all l want to do is cry.
There is this irritating pain inside me that will not go away no matter how hard l try.
Its like a permanent mark on my body, the pain has become a part of me.
The pain is starring at me,it is laughing at me ,it is happy because I am in pain.
I wish l could erase the memory of it I wish l could …….., I wish I could………

My life will never be the same no matter how hard l try.
Maybe l should learn to live with my pain, carry my crystallized heart and go home.
Go home and find comfort, but will they be able to accept me with open arms ?
Is it still the home l enjoyed visiting when I was only
five years old ?
Is it still the home where we are all equal?
Is it still the home where no one judges you for your flaws?
When we were growing up it was safe haven, an improved shelter where everyone used to look out for each other.
We were like a family.

They taught us to share what we had.
Those who did not have anything never felt inferior, we were equal.
When we grew up we drifted apart,some went to school overseas ,or in a different city.
Some of my peers never left town .
Will they hug me tight and tell me that everything is going to be alright?
Will they be able to know that there is something bothering me?

I am scared of disappointments maybe it is better that l cry myself to sleep.
Will I ever be able to get my life back after telling them my story ?
Somedays l wish l was young ,because I always looked forward to going home.

It is because I wasn’t broken back then.

Published by tcndangana

The girl with an overactive imagination

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