I am at a loss for words. Is this how being broken feels? If you break something, can it simply function as it used to? What about the pieces that are missing—lost? Ahh, the loss of words, the loss of feeling, the loss of yourself, lost and looking for a way… Is it to fix what’s broken? Sigh. Can someone help me? So many questions, so many pieces missing, and so much brokenness—loss of words, feelings, emotions, mobility of the body. Maybe you’re just missing a piece? Am I broken now? You’re questioning yourself: Are you broken? If only I could be fixed, or just be better. Maybe I’m not smart enough, maybe I don’t fit the needs, maybe I simply can’t feel, or maybe I’m dull, not charming. Maybe I fall short. Maybe I am ugly, maybe a reject, an outcast, denied, mocked. Broken—are you broken? This is sad…

I am on the floor, screaming in agony, picking up pieces of yourself in the dark. Trying to put them back in place, trying, reaching out in search of the right piece, the right place to put it.Argh! Screams—deafening, nothing but an echo. It’s so dark you can’t see. It’s futile, and you’re just left on the floor, drowning in sorrow, pain, emotions, shortcomings, failures, loss, and so much more. With all these pieces missing, you can’t find them. You can’t even find yourself. You can’t even see the light. Please, I need light, I need help. It’s no use, futile. Broken tears fall, and pain. More emotions, broken, broken. I tell you, it’s sad. This is what broken feels like—like you’re missing something inside, like what was there is no longer there. Brokenness is your life now. Missing pieces are your days. Darkness is your shadow. Lost is you.

You’re lost, looking, hurting, like a wounded soldier on the front lines at war. Broken, broken, broken. Repeatedly, the word defines yourself, your life, your days, hours, minutes, seconds. Broken, so sad it is. More teardrops, more pain, more brokenness, and more loss—not just words, but everything broken again. The word again, with pain again. Looking but failing to put the broken pieces back together. This is broken, this is despair, this is pain. This is so much more—this hurts. This is broken. You can’t break what’s already broken. From the beginning, pieces fell off—abuse at home, rejection, the passing of friends you mourn, no father, poverty, humiliation, sickness, and dying slowly. Broken, outcast, thrown away like a piece of trash. You know being broken hurts, you know. Can anybody simply help fix this? Sigh. I speak for all people who are overlooked, forgotten, lost, rejected, outcast, thrown away. I speak for all the broken. I am also broken. It may feel like this, you may feel alone, but you are not. You may feel so much brokenness, but it’s not the end. You can be fixed, and healed. It only feels that way, but if you just don’t give up, we can put those pieces back together…