Broken pieces.

Tonight is another one of those perennial nights. The ones I dread The nights I feel so crestfallen. The nights which silently accompany your collapse. And there you lay in your bed under your blanket, breathing heavily yet as silently as you can because you do not want anyone to know..this. This part of you. And you wonder how do people go on living like this? How do people learn to live with themselves? You wonder if everyone is as broken as you are. You wonder if everyone thinks of cutting the cord of life as often as do you? It is one of those nights, isn’t it? When you just want to vanish completely, you wish this thin air would inhale you. You feel you are a bag of broken pieces, a mess, unworthy of being loved and unable to love. You feel there is no one in this whole wide world you feel you are alone, you feel there is not a single soul you could tell how you actually feel, how the oxygen in the air is too thin for your delicate lungs. And yet if someone asks you what’s wrong you resort to prevarication. Don’t you think that maybe you re only degenerating things for you?

Know this my darling, you are not the only one. And you are certainly no wreck. All damaged things can be healed, and so will you. Slowly and gradually but eventually you will be yourself again. You just have to get through this night and everything will be better in the morning. And you will see peaceful nights. You will have nights without this fear, without the fear of falling into the claws of depression and sadness. You won’t feel so brittle anymore. And you will have nights full of bliss. Peaceful nights.

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