Not Okay?

It’s okay to carry the weight of your fractures - to let the world see where light fights to escape the jagged edges. Let them witness the uneven gleam; perfection is a story that never breathes. They say strength is silence, a face unmoved by the tide, but I’ve found courage in the ragged pull of air, in tears carving rivers through words left unspoken. It’s okay to unravel, to crumble in the places you once called unbreakable. Let the pieces scatter freely. You’re not a puzzle to be solved but a mosaic, stitched with scars and glints of gold. Feel lost. Rage wildly! Scream until the echo finds you - proof that darkness cannot swallow you whole. It’s okay to not be okay. Wear your wounds like constellations, maps that shimmer toward a truth untamed, a self still becoming. And when the weight gnaws at your chest, know that somewhere, someone bears the same shadow. Let your fractured voices converge - each step, each breath. You are the flicker, the unbroken ember, refusing to burn out.