Incomplete

I feel like there's a part of me missing. Like I'm not all there anymore. Maybe it's because that part of me that's always been there isn't there anymore. I feel like it's literally been ripped out and put somewhere else. I've decided that part of me that's not around anymore is dead. And it's not going to come back. There's no repairing this. Sometimes I cry about it. I was up last night thinking about it and crying over it. I'll always miss it. Some part of me will always belong to someone else, someone that I wish I had never let have that much. I know that God can fill up the empty places with Himself, and that He wants to do just that. But this is a loneliness I've never felt before. It feels like the scars have been ripped open again and they're bleeding more than they have before. I'm starting to get scared cause I feel like I'm starting to harden. I'm starting to become immune to the pain. I'm starting to welcome the familiarity of loneliness. It scares me that I just don't care that it hurts, that I don't care that I'm lonely, that I don't care that part of me belongs to someone else. I keep wanting to trick myself into thinking that I can move on. But all I feel when I start thinking that is the stupidity of that statement. I don't think I can ever fully move on. There's too much breakage, too many scars. I'm all whole on the outside, but inside I'm torn, bleeding and shattered. My mind is constantly crying and mocking the smile I've plastered on my face. I'm incomplete. I'm broken. But maybe one day, I'll find the beauty in all of these ashes. But for now, I'll keep bleeding.

Leaving Scars

Around July or so, I wanted to run away and stay gone. Just totally disappear and not come back. Ever. Summer is usually good. I'm usually excited about all the awesome memories that this summer would bring. But I dreaded the arrival of this summer.

See, last summer I hit rock bottom. I came to the end of myself. It hurt. I still have the scars to prove it, and I won't ever fully recover. These wounds are the sort that are always around. They throb when loneliness or a sense of loss triggers them. But this summer was different.

I decided that I would live passionately for today. I wouldn't worry about tomorrow. If I faced pain today, I'd deal with it today, not tomorrow. I wish I had known that last summer. Maybe breaking wouldn't have hurt so bad. Or maybe I wouldn't have broken at all... I still have the cracks, and I feel patched up, glued, like a shattered glass. Only, I've proven to be more fragile.

This summer, I feel reinforced. Part of me is dead. Things had to change, situations had to die. I see that now. I just never expected to fall as far as I did. I didn't expect to fall at all. I definitely know that it's something that's going to stay with me forever. I'll never forget it, and I'll always have some form of scar.

But at least the scars are starting to fade...