I am not broken
When Self-Help becomes Self Loathing
I am not broken
but I have felt broken under the weight of everything I am not and yet thought I should be
I am not broken
but I have jumped eagerly at every chance to fix myself
I am not broken
but all too often I walk through life as if I am
So, no
I am not broken
but I am actively shedding all of the layers of my not self
I am refining
redefining
aligning
shining
becoming more and more me
because what else is there to be
if not free
I am not broken
so I am done pretending to be
About the Creator
Melancholic Mama
I no longer know who I am, but I do know what I am
A mother and a wife
A woman lost in the sea of life
I don't know if I will ever be a who again, or if I am doomed to live the rest of my days as a mere what
Enjoyed the story? Support the Creator.
Subscribe for free to receive all their stories in your feed. You could also pledge your support or give them a one-off tip, letting them know you appreciate their work.
Keep reading
More stories from Melancholic Mama and writers in Poets and other communities.
181 Keeping Watch
Each day she watched through her window. Watched? Perhaps an exaggeration: a monochromatic nuclear aftermath remaining of the world, blurring into a blindness--loss of contrast and depth of field. Achromatic aberrations displayed a waste-scape stratified in grays.
By Gerard DiLeo3 days ago in Fiction
Comments
There are no comments for this story
Be the first to respond and start the conversation.