Broken

So I stand at my window and stare at sky, trying to figure out if God really exists, if He is, in fact sitting up there watching over us. I look below and see a child trip and smack his head on the pavement. He's crying. And bleeding. God could have stopped that. But then, who am I to question his will?

It's a beautiful day. Birds chirping away happily, the sun is shy and hiding behind the clouds, there are not many people around, so it's quiet and peaceful. A cool breeze blows, gently swaying the branches. I close my eyes and let it caress my face, as I breathe in the fresh air. As I breathe in freedom.

And then suddenly, the breeze that was just a moment ago so gentle turned into a strong, angry wind, slapping my face. Startled, I open my eyes and look at the sky. Dark clouds. A sly smile touches my lips. As always, the timing's perfect. Just when I thought everything's good, that everything's going to be okay, there comes trouble. I sigh, and continue to stand there. I'm not turning away. I will not. Life is hard and it often throws challenges our way. It's up to you whether you face them head on or run away. You can be the Fighter or the Coward. The choice is always yours. So I stand here now, head turned up looking at the sky, not backing down. I have made my choice.

It's pouring now. The wind picks up speed and the rain is now hitting me in the face. Within moments I'm soaked. And I don't care. Maybe the wind will sweep me off my feet and carry me to the Land of the Dead. A bitter laugh escapes my lips at the thought. Right!!

I'm scared. What scares me is not the rapidly darkening sky or the clouds that threaten to unleash more rain and drown this craphole of a world, but me. I am scared of myself, for myself. As I stand here all alone and cold, I can’t help but think about my past life, of the many mistakes I made, the countless wrong choices that led to wrong decisions, which in the end resulted in devastating consequences. Like a broken mirror, the pieces of my life are falling apart. I'm picking up the pieces and trying so hard to put it back together, but as soon as one piece falls into place, another falls out. I'm tired. There are pieces missing, lost somewhere in the dark past, pieces that silently dropped away and went unnoticed by me. It is another mistake that I now regret. I look at the mess, my mess, and I see a broken reflection of me.

With renewed determination I try desperately to put all the pieces together, ignoring the pain the new cuts bring while the old ones bleed. And I succeed! I stand back and look at my work. A soft smile touches my lips, hope lightens up my eyes, I'm standing up straight, proud of my achievement…..and the pieces fall out again.

At some point we have to stop trying. Sometimes broken mirrors should be left broken, because if you try to fix them, you only hurt yourself more.







But, when do I stop believing..when do I stop fighting?