Shattering

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I know what happened now.

It took me years to know. And I wasn’t the one to solve the puzzle. I had to have it put together nearly completely before I could wrap my mind around it. They were the pieces of the puzzle that put themselves together for me, for authority, for the universe to see. The pieces that were battered and torn before they could even make something of themselves.

It was he that tried to hide the pieces from me. Who chose to sidestep me and others, to make us feel that we had lost our minds. Our reality wasn’t real. It was all wrong. Everything was upside down, topsy turvy. Misguided assumptions, innocence misplaced, faith and trust shattered like a lightbulb whose filament exploded and we are the pieces, scattered on the floor, unable to make ourselves one again. He the filament, the one that made me, gave me my purpose. He betrayed me and maybe it’s because I couldn’t contain or direct his heat the way he thought I should. He punished me. He punished all of us. Instead I made more of me, more of us, and we ended up in a dustpan swept into a pile by the law, filament pieces and glass shards, placed into a neat pile of documents and reports and told ‘you can make yourselves whole again’.

Well maybe I used the wrong kind of glue. Or I trusted that we could become a productive light of the earth again, if I just tried harder for and with him. My fingers shook as they tried to in vain to hold him to me. He wouldn’t fit. He careened his head back away from me, pushing and stabbing me away. He had chosen to break from me, and cared nothing for how he left us.

Broken broken broken. In our nice neat pile I could not pull myself into a piece resembling of my previous self. He to be the inside of my being no more.

We have to move on. We have to find the right cement, or find another purpose. To turn our lightbulb shards into a mosaic glittering in the sun, bringing our pieces together to form a new kind of beauty. I need to know I can be recycled, repurposed into something even I can admire.

I cannot forget the past. I cannot move forward. But I have to, because that’s what us humans do. We turn our shattered selves into beautiful mosaics, pieces of this and that we’ve gathered throughout our lives into something beautiful and worth living for.

He is no longer my purpose.

I shall make myself again with no filament, relying only on the energy I know I contain to light my path, for myself and others.

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