By the time you will read this, I'll be long gone.

I will not be in the land of dead, nor of alive either. I will be as I was since, well... long before my heart was crushed between lips or fingers or people's thoughts.

I will be here, in a place between your world and mine. In places where the secret code to enter is pain in the chest, days of crying and words never heard of ears that count.

In this vast land is a city with concrete blocks, all gray. The streets are one way roads that travel beyond and above. Roundabouts at every mile that gives chances to go back.

back where?! you might ask.

I do not know to answer to that, I do not know to tell you stories of those who took the route back, or to show you pictures of new places they landed.

But I can tell you about the place where I am at.

Blocks are all around but going straight down the street you'll reach a park.

People stay here day and night with pillows and blankets all spare for just in case.

In case of what?! another good question you might add.

In case that someone who was their friend some time ago will come along. Not for company. No. In this place knowing that you're not alone is enough. no need to interact. The spare pillows and blankets are for those who have the courage to take some steps towards our grieving and pain and... just to hold our hands.

Among others like me, we are not alone. If you want to came and take me back, please do it.

I will be here.

It is everywhere
On the radio
In my friends' eyes
Right in front of me

It is part of life
The happy ending to every book
Part of life’s plan
What makes us human

It is a milestone
The progression of dating
Then marriage
And children

It is society’s solution
The one for sadness
For mental illness
To keep going when the world falls apart

It is why I am different
Unable to relate to the subplots in movies
To my friends' love lives
And will not ever have the option to

It is what the world will not understand
Why it calls me heartless
Unloving
And vile

It is inescapable
In the name of who I am
The name of my community
Aromantic

It is the reason I feel alienated
Because love is love
But I cannot love
At least not in the way the world wants me too

Walls are not meant to keep others out,
but to keep yourself in.

Everybody
Is broken
At least a little bit
Since when did brokenness land on a measurement of more, or less?
Like, beaten is better than broken,
It's better to be battered than shattered

But last I checked broken was a loss of functionality,
If you can't do the same things you used to without crying,
You're just as broken as the rest of us,
If you just don't smile as often as you used to,
You're just as broken as the rest of us,
If you can't even hold a pencil without your hand shaking,
I'm sorry, you're broken, just like the rest of us.

What if I told you that in order to be truly broken you have to accept it,
What if I told you that in order to accept brokenness you inherently accept that you were ever whole in the first place and you, were made of pieces.
Two halves came together to make you,
And no self inflicted bashing, slashing or thrashing will bring you alive again because you were never dead
You have so many parts that have lost segments of code
You're not broken, you've just altered your directive
Because brokenness, assumes that you have a function,
And
If you can't perform a function anymore,
It's okay to find a new one.
You're not broken,
You're just weathered.