Story cover for The Broken Truth by tiredwhilesleep
The Broken Truth
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    LECTURAS 300
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    Votos 10
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    Partes 17
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    Hora 23m
  • WpView
    LECTURAS 300
  • WpVote
    Votos 10
  • WpPart
    Partes 17
  • WpHistory
    Hora 23m
Continúa, Has publicado ago 10, 2017
bro·ken
ˈbrōkən/
verb

 past participle of break.
adjective



1. Having  given up all hope; despairing.

"He died a broken man."
 


Synonyms:	smashed, shattered, fragmented, crushed,  etc.




{NOT EDITED} [COVER BY @ NFictionism]



" I don't care anymore. Nothing changes at the end. The chemicals going through my bloodstream not only changes me but makes me. I'm not the same person, I don't even know why I thought  you would care about me. But you know what maybe I am being overdramatic. You didn't care for me you used me. You ahead leave."


"That's not ..."


" Then what exactly ? Huh? Smile you say, you say it like it's easy. I clap for you, I love how you can smile through everything, I love you laugh , I love you brave you are, how hard you work. But I can't." My voice cracks, my eyes become watery once again.




  










".........thank you for being here, but go to her not me."
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[BWWM] I was only twelve years old when the world turned cold. The day my mom died in that car accident, I felt like someone had dumped a bucket of ice water over my heart. My dad, who had always been my hero, suddenly became a stranger, filled with rage and blame. He couldn't see that I was hurting, too; he only saw me as a reminder of his loss. The accusations cut deep. He said it was my fault for being there, for not doing something to save her. For being the reason she was in the car in the first place. In the years that followed, things only got worse. The abuse started gradually-a harsh word here, a shove there-but it escalated, leaving scars that I carried long after the physical pain faded. I was drowning in my own despair, struggling to keep my head above water while my father's anger raged like a storm around me. I only had a break from his anger when I started living with Aunt Dina-my mom's older sister. Well, that was because she found me nearly dead on my bed after I took a dozen pills. I was tired of living. I had hit rock bottom. The harsh whispers that followed me around and the stares at school. I pretended not to notice, like it didn't bother me. But it did. I was alone. Then came Athalia, a ray of sunshine cutting through my darkness. With her, I felt something I hadn't felt in years-happiness. She became my light through the darkness and my lifeline. ••••••••••• ● Warnings ⚠️ ~ Mention of suicide ~ Anxiety attacks ~ Rape attempt ~ Mention of self-harm ~ Depression
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What does it mean to be broken? (I wrote this poem myself) ______________________________ Why be sad? When no one knows how bad You feel your Pain makes you sore. Why be mad? When no one can tell How hard you fell How it hurts MORE than a tad. Why be happy? Be like all those sappy People pretending to be What they want you to see. Why be frightened? Senses heightened Screaming, As sick people are beaming. Why be tired? When no one knows How your wired How you grow. Why be honest? When all known is a broken promise When no one believes you Even if what you say is true. Why hurt? When no one feels your pain When no one's ever alert When you never feel sane. Why pretend? When you know in the end No one will be there Because no one cares. Why care? When no one cares enough for you To know what your going through They think your heart is unfair. Why try? When no one sees that you do They just pry Thinking they know more than you. Why speak? When no one will ever hear They'll say you're a freak They don't see a single tear. Why do anything at all? It's not like anyone will see If you fall If you scream. ____________________________________ "Just admit it Winter. After the whole accident....your broken." "No...No that's where your wrong. I'm not broken. Because to be broken, you had to have been whole in the first place."