And I go and stand in front of the mirror, with messy hair and red rimmed eyes. Warm liquid streams down my face as I wait for the mirror to respond. When did I become such a disaster? I hold myself close because I don't want to be lost. 
That's when I realize how many shards of me have fallen. I bury them in my writings, uncovering them in front of strangers but yet I don't run out of them. I inhale melancholy, alter it with anger, dig nails into my skin and exhale the pain in form of words bleeding out from my pen lined with beauty, beautiful to the strangers, while my heart breaks. I'm torn apart. My words scream for help as my tongue remains silent.

And that's when I realize I'm not alone. 
I am a part of a fantasy land, I'm present behind these closed doors, I'm on the lonely streets, I witness the sunshine, I'm present admit tears and hopes, I'm there in those broken homes, I'm a part of beautiful confessions, I'm lost in those deep woods, I'm a part of the warmth. 
I realize that I'm not alone. I have my words with me. My stories. 

Even if I'm breaking, 
Even if I'm hurt, 
I'm still breathing, 
I'm still alive, 
And that's where I'm beautiful. 

I will continue to breathe, 
I will live, 
I will leave my mark, 
Because I've felt the darkness of the day, 
I've been fascinated by the light of the dark, 
I've seen beauty being devastated, 
I behold my existence. 
And aglow myself. 
And I will continue to...