The Story of the Broken Girl

My mamma used to tell me that dreams always came true. I found out that dreams could also be nightmares. My mamma used to tell me that when you make a wish at 11:11 it will come true. I figured out that wishes aren't always good. My mamma used to tell me that wishing upon a shooting star, or the first star you see, would make your wildest dreams come true. I figured out that wildest didn't mean good. My papa used to tell me that nothing bad would ever happen to me. I believed him, up until fifth grade. When I was in a car accident. Me. My papa. My baby sister. I nearly died. My mamma and papa used to tell me that nothing could break my spirit. I still believe that. You wanna know why? Because I know that no matter what, even if I'm broken, I still have my mamma, my papa, and my brothers and my sisters. My mamma and papa used to tuck me in at night, Because I always started screaming because of the nightmares. I found out that a wishbone breaking doesn't give you luck. I found out that I'm broken. I can't be fixed. I'm not alone. This is my story. The Story of the Broken Girl