Broken Pieces

August 3, 2011
In that moment, I promised myself that I would know what I had before I lost it, know when I lost it, and keep myself from picking up the broken pieces. Because running away is so much less painful from trying to fix everything and realizing that everything has changed and you can never go back to the past. To move on was to destroy everything you had. And so I promised, and I knew that I would keep it, though I never did that with anything else, and everyone was aware of my history. But I swore, that if I falter, I wouldn’t turn back, because that meant a return to uncertainty, a feat that drove me insane. And so, this promise, that held me to the earth, set me free.





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