Not me. (2023)

The Shattered Girl

There once was a shattered girl, who walked on shattered legs, and spoke through shattered lips, and thought in a shattered mind. Through shattered eyes she saw the shattered things no one else could see, and through shattered ears she heard the shattered things no one else could hear. But above all other things, the shattered girl was a liar. She was such a good liar that, sometimes, she could even manage to lie to herself. But that shattered girl soon learned that all lies will crumble and shatter, until the truth could be seen. And so, the shattered girl became afraid that people would see through the skin she wore, and into the shattered thing inside her as it cut, and tore, through the lies she told, spilling her secrets until everyone could see the blood that stained her skin. So, the shattered girl watched the world, wearing her mask of lies. She learned not to look people in the eyes because she was afraid that they would look into her shattered eyes and see past her mask of lies and into her shattered heart. Because of this, the shattered girl built walls around her heart to help keep the shattered in, so that when she was hurt the pieces of her pain wouldn't go flying and hurt the world around her. The shattered girl bore her hurt in silence. She knew if she never expressed the pain she felt, the world would not have to experience pain on her behalf. You see, the shattered girl could not stand by and watch the pain of others, so she did her best to hold onto the shattered pieces, gripping them as tightly as she could. And when the broken pieces pierced her skin, she gripped them tighter, knowing the blood on her hands would make the pieces slippery. She pressed the pieces to her chest, and when they pierced her heart, she welcomed the pain, knowing that if she were feeling it, then no one else would be. She hid the tears from her shattered eyes behind her shattered smile, and danced through the shattered world, picking up the shattered pieces that only the shattered girl could see. Wherever she went, the shattered girl tried to put the pieces of the world back together. It was a delicate job, made for gentle hands, so the shattered girl wore no gloves. She knew in order for the pieces to be put together properly, she must feel them mend. When she handled them, the shattered pieces sliced at her, spilling her blood, leaving her open, venerable, so that when she was hurt, her pain was more, because it hit at her weakest spots. It took everything for the shattered girl to keep from doubling up around her pain, and locking her heart away from the world, hiding it so that it could no longer be trampled. The shattered girl found that as she became more and more hurt, it was harder to tell the truth. So, the shattered girl wove lies around herself. Spinning tales as sticky and delicate as a spider's web. Soon she found herself so entangled in her web of lies that she could no longer tell the truth. And when her mask of lies suffocated her, still she refused, knowing that she was balanced so delicately on a shattered edge, that she would leave bloody footprints behind her. She bound her feet tightly, and crawled, but still she left a trail, from her hands where she wore no gloves, and her heart where she hid her hurt, and her feet where she had balanced on a ledge of lies. When she could crawl no longer, she stopped. She looked behind her at the trail she had left, and down through her damaged body at the mess she had made. She knew she was at the end. Though it hurt her feet, the shattered girl stood up and looked at the ledge where she had so carefully balanced. It had been years, she thought, and she was tired of walking this carefully measure life of deception and hurt she kept hidden. She was tired of hurting the people she loved and holding on to the shattered pieces of their hurt, and hurting the more for it. She was tired from carrying the weight of her lies and knowing that she could never put them down. The shattered girl looked down at the ledge where she stood and did the most selfish thing she would ever do: She jumped. And when she jumped, she flew, shaking off the weight of her lies and scattering the shattered pieces of all the hurt she had collected with all the scars she had accumulated behind her. But even as the shattered girl flew, she knew that she had made a mistake. Because she knew that when the weight of her lies hit the world, the world would shake, and when they hit the ground, the shattered pieces she had so carefully collected, and all of the shattered pieces she kept within herself, would go flying like so many shards of broken glass, and puncture those who stood too close, poisoning them with her pain. As the shattered girl flew, she looked back at the shattered world through her shattered eyes and her shattered mind thought one last shattered thought: