Illustration by Kriztin Cruz
“a tribute to the broken: an open letter”
Broken, scathed, scarred, and worst, shattered like tiny pieces of sharp-edged fragments of glasses. Barely breathing, barely breathing, barely breathing,
You are drowning in a sea of sadness, pulled by the strong currents of pain, lost in the middle of the ocean of melancholy. It has been set; you are barely surviving the storm of anguish. Everyone else seems to be too oblivious by your cries for help. Despite screaming in desperation, your muffled shouts for saving are muted by the loud boom of the rest of the world’s problems.
Small, small, small. You feel worthless and small. You feel neglected and rejected and abandoned. You feel frantic to keep going, but too tired to run or walk or crawl. You feel everything and nothing all at once, until it makes you numb.
Is this how you feel right now?
Let’s rephrase that.
Healing, nurtured, marked, and most importantly, rebuilding like small chunks of concrete stacked higher, making stronger foundations. Almost there, almost there, almost there.
You are floating in the clouds of hope, strength restored by the soft caress of the gentle wind of forgiveness and acceptance. It has been set; you are a work in progress, slowly standing up on your tippy-toes and reaching for help. Everyone may seem too unfocused to notice, but they can see you. They can see how hard you are trying to reconstruct your walls and nitty-gritties, and they are trying to reach for your hand too. Despite your sharp edges and pointed stares, they are taking the risk just to hold you tight.
Enough, enough, enough. You feel worth it and more than enough. You are standing on your own, with the sunshine waiting for you to come back to him. The lines drawn upon your heart, straight to your soul, are a reminder that you have won your battles, and you are still fighting and trying and winning.
You are not giving up.
It’s tiring to run or walk or even crawl from where you are to where you should be. But it will be worth it. You will see.
Do not give up, my love. Embrace your imperfections and proudly and loudly say that yes, you are winning your battles, and yes, you are going to win the war ahead.
You are a work in progress, a masterpiece carefully sculpted and painted. Just keep it going, and you will see your own beauty.
The Broken and Healed
“to the person who keeps trying”
Breathing. Heavily breathing. Can’t breathe. Can’t breathe. Can’t breathe.
You keep trying and trying and trying and trying, but there seems to be no progress. Your hand clutches the thin thread of silver lining, but it slips away from your gasp too easily. You’re trying to hold your breath, trying to suppress it all, trying to hold it in, but not really trying at all.
Useless. Nothing. None. No matter how hard you try, you just can’t do it. You keep pushing and pushing and pushing. But the resistance against your force is too compelling. It’s impossible to win. Improbable to succeed. You can’t.
Sometimes you just can’t do it anymore. Your efforts seem to go to waste, there seem to be none at all. Nobody sees how hard you’re trying. Nobody hears your cries of pain. Nobody.
There isn’t anything you can do, because you are drowning. Drowning. Barely breathing. Barely breathing. Barely breathing.
You’re human too, why can’t they see? You’re human too, isn’t that true?
You feel left out. You feel corrupted. You feel hollow. You feel ashamed. You feel neglected. You feel misunderstood and misjudged. You feel that you’re all alone and done for. It’s as if the world around you completely wraps you in a dark blanket. Whenever it’s somber outside, you feel like you’re represented by the hollows of tomorrow.
You’re trying. You’re trying. You’re trying. But there isn’t a single person who can see your worth, your hardships, your agony, your misery. All of them. All of them. All they do is pin your frail body against a wall, and yell your sins, carve your mistakes, and slash your wounds deeper with nothing but the sharpest weapon of all: words.
You are tired. Tired.
They would tell you, “We’re all tired, sad, and in pain. Stop complaining.”
But have they ever thought of how much you’ve put into this matter, just to push on with it and continue living, and trying, and going? Have they ever thought of how hard you’ve tried, only for you to be set aside, belittled?
But love, let me tell you this:
You are not abandoned. You are not alone.
If there’s one thing you need to know first, it’s this. If there’s something that needs to be emphasized, it’s this. If there’s a thing that you should keep in mind, it’s this. You are not, and never will be, alone.
It’s okay if you’re tired of trying. It’s okay if you’re tired of pushing through. It’s okay.
We’re all going through different battles, we’re all fighting monsters of our own, but that doesn’t mean your pain is invalid. That doesn’t mean you are invalid.
You keep trying and trying and trying. Small progress is still progress, slow progress is still progress. No matter how narrow, how steep, how unhurried, how consuming your progress is, progress is still progress.
Don’t let your monsters win over you. Instead, let the galaxies and stars within your eyes and soul rule over your psyche. Let yourself breathe.
It’s hard. Of course, it is. But love, it’s okay. It’s okay if you’re trying. Do a pause, but don’t give up. You’re a warrior, after all.
Just keep doing it. Soon, all will be well.
All will be well.
The Girl Who’s Also Trying
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i’m a bottle suppressed, stuffed with dried up tears and dreams that remain as dreams, words unsaid and crumpled up thoughts, neatly folded emotions and everything that othe
the tragedy wasn’t found in the uproar of the deep blue with which its crescendos supposedly meant to overpower that of the voices it wasn’t in the silence casted, kissing t