I think the things that happened to me, latched on so tight that pieces of my soul remained in those moments.
Pieces were broken off until there was nothing left.
So, I watch from the distances of my past as the world interacts with a shell that once housed a million specks of me, desperate to understand why no one can see the truth.
That I am an impostor in my own skin.
With the real article scattered among history, I now see that a time must come to journey back into the darkness in search of those pieces, hoping to find myself whole again.
So, I begin to reach back, terrified, unable to see as my hands reach into the black, feeling around for what was once me. Feeling weak, and lost, like a loser for having ever let the pieces slip, but they did indeed slip. So it’s time to get them back, to take back what was lost, to forge the pieces together into something new.
To be whole again.
By Kephra Rubin
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