#;broken

𑁍 Kintsugi - The Japanese art of mending 𑁍

Bless you Children of Dawn,

Mend your heart.

We are all patchworks of trauma and frustration

Overwhelmed by the absurdity of life, even though we strive day after day to make sense of it. Truth is it makes sense and non-sense. Truth is you don’t need to evaluate yourself. Truth is you are living in vain, and it really doesn’t matter, because you are so tiny. Breathe !

You are a failed artist but you have poetry in your heart.

You have not enough money, but you choose to dive in life instead of shielding yourself behind fears and wealth.

Your heart is broken, and the scar will remain, but you loved. Most never love because it is always hurts.

Your body is craving to be adored and touched and taken care of, because you are still alive, because you didn’t gave up on life, and you did not became one of those ready-made ghosts.

You are tired to be different, but you never wanted to be like them.

Jesse slumped down the dark and cold sidewalk with his arms wrapped around himself. His legs were shaky and his head was cloudy still from the drugs he was given unknowingly. He shivered involuntarily and a soft squeak of paint left his lips.

His sides were bruised, chest, stomach and back bled from the deep razor cuts. The deep bite mark on the crook of his neck had stopped bleeding but hurt just as much as his ribs. The blood from his wounds began to soak through his shirt and a bit through his hoodie near his back.

Joint placed loosely between middle and index finger, Ryan gingerly smoked the weed he had received minutes ago from one of his friends. His eyes were already glazed over; from the mixture of alcohol and weed. His head tilts up as he breathes out the smoke filling his lungs. He didn’t know what to feel as he looked over at the three friends laughing and singing along to the buzz of the radio. He wasn’t sure what had brought him here, to the car filled with laughter, and drugs. Had he relapsed without knowledge? It was the only thing he could possibly think of… he couldn’t have done this consciously. Ryan had at least a small bit of brains left.

With hands gripping the steering wheel, Ryan thought back to the days where he and Nick spent every day together; as kids, enjoying life. Before their family was ripped apart, and Ryan was taken to some unknown shitty part of Florida while Nick grew up with Donny and his—their—parents. Ryan didn’t know then, but he wouldn’t see Nick or his family for five years. Five goddamn years where his life would fall apart in every way it possibly could. He was taught life how hard it was at such a young age; that god? God didn’t exist and their was no one watching over him or making sure the demons didn’t attack him every night. Life was something you couldn’t run away from. It was a tunnel with no light at the end, just darkness. Where you would fall, fall, fall until you reached the end of the abyss and just like that—you’re gone.