To Break

I

To break is to separate into pieces as a result of a blow, shock, or strain. It is something more than a snapped bone or a torn muscle and it’s more than a cracked skull or a punctured lung.

To break has nothing to do with physical fragmentation, but rather emotional. Breaking is the process of your brain failing to do its job. It’s the time when something happens, something so unbelievable that you simply cannot cope. You shut down.

But to be broken; that’s when the process has ended and you are left with nothing. Your entire being has shattered into pieces and those pieces are laying across the floor, like parts of a mirror after being smashed.

Being broken is not so easy to fix; you need someone to come along and pick up all the pieces. You need someone to hug you so tight that all your pieces glue back together.

The only problem with this, however, is that glue is temporary. In this short time you feel as if you had never been torn apart, as if you were whole once again. It’s good in the short term. But the real, heart shattering, mind blowing problem with temporary is that it disappears. Temporary tattoos fade, temporary happiness goes away, and temporary glue loses its stick.  And when that happens, you are left feeling more broken than ever.

That’s why you have to pick up your fragments one by one. You have to get some fucking strong superglue and stick them back together. Because there isn’t always going to be someone there to hold you together, and once they leave, you’re screwed.

That’s what happened to me.

Broken once, you can be fixed.

Broken twice and you’re broken forever.