Sea Turtle
She/Her ✨ Achieving True Peace
- Aug 12, 2020
- 346
We're born, just a normal pane of glass. As life goes on, some experiences bring color to it. But other experiences slowly chip away, the fragments to be lost forever.
Eventually, as we go on, the chips really start to wear on us. Eventually, the structure can no longer sustain itself and it shatters into a million pieces.
Even broken, we are still picked at. Broken trust, friendships, relationships, long forgotten goals and wishes. Pieces of us that are lost, never to come back.
Some may seek to recover, but what is there left? Recovery is merely an attempt to piece together the myriad of broken fragments, a temporary false hope, metaphorically taping together the glass. Finding new ways to cope, finding one thing to hope for, it's all temporary. It doesn't erase the past, it doesn't erase the pain, it doesn't erase the world we live in. It doesn't erase the cruelty of others, it doesn't change the fact that life is slaving away until we can no more, because all that's left is an ill, broken, remnant of a person.
This false hope is like the tape degrading over time, a drop of rainwater or a gust of wind. What's lost doesn't come back, once one is broken they cannot be whole again. And even though one is broken and shattered, being held together by mere strands of tape, still the world and life, picks away. A piece there, a piece here, less and less is left.
Eventually more and more is lost, the remaining pieces completely unrecognizable, and the color long gone. Doomed to lose more and more, lost in the depths of time until it is no more.
Eventually, as we go on, the chips really start to wear on us. Eventually, the structure can no longer sustain itself and it shatters into a million pieces.
Even broken, we are still picked at. Broken trust, friendships, relationships, long forgotten goals and wishes. Pieces of us that are lost, never to come back.
Some may seek to recover, but what is there left? Recovery is merely an attempt to piece together the myriad of broken fragments, a temporary false hope, metaphorically taping together the glass. Finding new ways to cope, finding one thing to hope for, it's all temporary. It doesn't erase the past, it doesn't erase the pain, it doesn't erase the world we live in. It doesn't erase the cruelty of others, it doesn't change the fact that life is slaving away until we can no more, because all that's left is an ill, broken, remnant of a person.
This false hope is like the tape degrading over time, a drop of rainwater or a gust of wind. What's lost doesn't come back, once one is broken they cannot be whole again. And even though one is broken and shattered, being held together by mere strands of tape, still the world and life, picks away. A piece there, a piece here, less and less is left.
Eventually more and more is lost, the remaining pieces completely unrecognizable, and the color long gone. Doomed to lose more and more, lost in the depths of time until it is no more.
