There was once a world where everyone and everything mattered;
Where happiness was as easy as waking up in the morning and being alive;
Where trust existed and was a tangible thing that one had in oneself and could give to other people,
Where flawlessness and beauty were real and simple and true.
And this world did exist,
It was solid and functional and realistic and perfect.
And it even had its place;
In my head.
But then one day, one day not so much unlike any other,
One day where the sun rose and the moon followed and life happened as usual,
This world, my world, my reality, shattered.
Was smashed like a rock through a glass window, collapsed like a mirror with a fist though the center,
Fell apart like a beautiful home into which a wrecking ball collided.
A wrecking ball, cold, hard,
Steel, solid, unbending,
Permanent, never going back, never controlled,
Always destroying, always hurting,
Imprecise. Flawed.
My heart the home,
The never going back to okay,
The flaws like small holes through everything ever known or loved,
Growing larger with every second, with every thought becoming and merging as one,
Until reality was a hole and everything I was and ever knew was falling, disappearing,
Becoming lost inside of it.
And I was at the center,
The forces of everything pushing me, pulling me, dragging me in their tides,
The people I’ve known, the choices I’ve made,
The pressure welling up like thunder ready to burst.
The weight of the world not on my shoulders,
Where it could be carried,
But inside me, tearing me apart.
And I was left there,
Alone,
Destroyed and defective and broken and torn.
And yet, somehow, still breathing, still functional.
Alive.
And with the strength that only comes forward when needed,
I took a deep breath and stood up;
Pulled together whatever fractured parts of me and my life remained,
And took a step forward.
Into the future, unknown and scary and marvelous,
To begin the construction of a new reality, again.