i've always been able to feel every crack. every fracture in me has been all encompassing and at the forefront of my occupations. i couldn't see them. no one could see any proof that i had ever been shattered.

i made them visible. i drew the cracks on my body with blood. it numbed me and relieved me to know it was all real.

the cracks are still there though. they were permanent. i don't want them anymore. i don't want these reminders of how bad things can get. i'm sick of feeling like a vase waiting to topple.

but the lovely thing about breaking is that someone might scoop up the pieces. pick you up, bit by bit, and lay you down on a table. they'll start to glue parts together, figuring out the puzzle and understanding how this was first done. they'll hold you when they finish and admire how you can still hold flowers even when you had just been a pile of shards.

you'll learn to put yourself together. you'll always need help with a few pieces, but it gets easier. sometimes you can stop yourself falling. sometimes someone might catch you. it's okay to break.