The State of Broken Things

Broken People Aren't Fragile

Adrian ~

"Mostly, it's the pain. There's too much. If I could end it, I would. But I can't."

Stephen King

Broken People Aren't Fragile

I read somewhere that in Japanese pottery, they fix broken bowls and cups by sealing the cracks with gold. It's an art form called Kintsugi. It's supposed to reflect the belief that things are more beautiful once they've been damaged. Cover up the cracks with something else that will distract from the real problem. What better way to do that then to provide something pretty to look at instead of the ugly destruction happening behind you? Because there are always pretty things. Supposedly, you can always find something calm among the chaos.

I guess that's reflective of how people tend to think that trauma makes you stronger. It gives you things like patience and understanding and empathy, maturity at 13 that usually doesn't come for another five years.

You're supposed to focus on those good things. Focus on the pretty gold, instead of the fact that someone shattered the bowl in the first place.

Just like that, though, the cracks are never going to go away. They're always there. Covering them up with pretty things isn't going to change the fact that it's still broken and will always be broken.

Some days you can feel the cracks more than others.

Some days, you still feel shattered.

I suppose there's merit to it, though. That there are good things after the pain. Strength being one of them. After you've broken once, and struggled to put the pieces of yourself back together, it takes a hell of a lot to break you again. At least, it's supposed to.

Today marks a year since my mother died. September 21st. It's been an entire year without her, and that's all I needed. I feel every bit as broken as I was that day, but so much worse and I don't even know why. Everything I usually get upset about feels amplified. Things that would typically never bother me make me so angry. Minor inconveniences all of a sudden become huge grievances.

Something feels like it's tearing me apart on the inside, and I've spent all day today trying not to let the tears fall. I was happy when it was finally lunchtime and hoping that being with Cas would make me feel better, but then Katrina started saying shit and I got mad. Then he defended her, and I got pissed.

He keeps telling me that she isn't always like that. Always asking me to give her another chance, telling me she didn't mean that how it sounded.

For him, I'm trying. I've been trying. But the way she looks at me makes me uncomfortable, repressed dislike and disgust sitting beneath the surface of her eyes. I don't even know what I did to her to deserve that look. I don't know if I'm overthinking it, but either way, it feels like it's there and I have no idea what to do with it.

Even worse, the way she looks at Cas. How she's so nice to him, how she always pays a little bit of extra attention to him. How close they got, so quickly.

It's a fear I don't want to have. I trust him with everything in me. It's something I want to call myself irrational for, but Cas is bisexual and that makes it a possibility. I'm not imagining the way she laughs a little too hard at his jokes, and the way her gaze lingers on him for just a little too long. I'm not imagining all the time he's defended her to me, and I don't want to plan to go to New York if he's gonna be there and we won't be together.

Swearing, I wet a paper towel and wipe my face down, trying not to think for just five fucking seconds. Looking at myself in the bathroom mirror, I take a second to examine my face and to see if I could make myself look any more presentable.