I knew it was wrong... but I always did it. I mean, I think it was wrong... My father and mother always said that crying showed weakness, and if you showed weakness, life would consume you until you fell... Until you fell onto your knees, yet my tears reflected the guilt and sorrow that filled my trembling body. My hands clenched into fists. They were right, weren't they? Life has always been hard. It has always been... unforgiving. I felt a broken spirit and heart weigh me down as I fell down to my knees. I let my tears shed. I was always pulled down, but I've never felt my spirit this... broken. Broken as the rippling reflections of light on a sea. Broken as a fire in the rain. Broken as a shadow in the light... broken... broken as the night when the sun rises. I let a large lump slide down my throat. I just had to stop… right? I rubbed my eyes, trying to get rid of the tears. I slowly got up- I was shaky, and it felt like my knees would buckle again, but I was able to stand straight. My eyes were puffy though. A shuddering breath escaped my lungs. I looked straight down at the floor before lifting my chin up again. I made my way to look at my reflection in the mirror… I was red-faced. I winced at my own reflection. Reflections always told the truth. I felt my hands clench the bathroom sink as I started. If I looked into my eyes, wouldn’t that mean I would be able to see my soul? Your eyes were the windows to your soul, afterall… Nothing. Perhaps I was soulless. Perhaps… it was a false theory made up by some important person… Or perhaps… I was just broken. Broken like my life, and broken as my soul.
I wrote this!
