Here I am, bent, broken, disfigured. I’ve been stripped of all embellishments. I no longer possess the the ability to distract with shiny jewels and colored light. I cannot present to you more than who I am. I don’t know if I ever really could. So this is all I have to give. All of me. Just the way I am. No tricks or teases. No rosy promises.  I waited for someone to see the value in me, as I am, in raw flesh. I was tired of being tossed away because I wasn’t polished enough, dazzling enough, perfect enough. I knew, deep down, that there was a place for me. A place where I would fit in, where my strengths would be noticed. Where someone would see something in me, recognize the raw, unpolished talent and appreciate it. Maybe even like it. But first I had to be broken. Broken of my will and broken of my pride. Broken. We see it as a bad thing, something to avoid, to detest. I see it now as a strength, a necessity even. Sometimes we lose our way and we get so big in our own heads that the only way to get back to where we should be is by falling down. I see more clearly now. That’s the value of being broken. You see the present and stop worrying about the future. You learn to take each day for what it is, a blessing. So here I am, broken, waiting patiently to heal again but not wanting to rush it.


About samlobos

I am an avid fan of creating narratives in my head about random experiences and quotes for future books I will probably not write. I harbor a 15 year old girl in my psyche and like to solve world issues when I'm half asleep. View all posts by samlobos

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