Broken Pieces (Journal Entry)

I can’t tell if it’s me that is broken or if it’s the world that is broken or if my head is stuck in a box. Or maybe the box is all in my head and I can’t escape because the box makes more sense than the world.

Or maybe we’re all just a bunch of broken pieces scattered in a melee of confusion, trying to connect, yearning to transform into an enchanted castle on a hill, fortified with wisdom and built with enduring love.

Maybe the pieces are so broken, so scattered, so unwilling and unable, so lost and weathered by the storm that they will never be what they are meant to be, never do what they are designed to do, never evolve into the oneness they are destined to become.

Maybe each piece has a crack, and each crack has its weakness. and the weakness is too strong to pull the pieces together. And as we sit around wallowing in our mass broken grave, the pieces slowly sink into the void as they lose all sight of the promise of ever after.

So if I’m a broken piece of this shattered world then maybe the box in my head is really a crack that must be filled with the wisdom, strength and courage to be what I am meant to be, do what I am designed to do, and evolve into the oneness that I am destined to become.

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