Through The Fractures

I wake up, still tangled in yesterday’s shadows. The world presses in too hard, but I’m already used to that weight. I don’t fight it anymore. I just exist - drifting through the cracks of my mind, sitting between memories and uncertainty. There’s a storm inside me, but it’s the quiet kind. The kind that doesn’t shout, just moves, leaves scars that never heal, yet somehow, they shape me. I stand with pieces of myself scattered across the floor, not quite whole, but no longer broken in the same way. I’ve learned to walk through the mess, through the echoes of lost things. It’s like wearing a mask that fits too well. But there’s light in this. Not the perfect, shining kind, but the kind that slips through the cracks. I’m still standing, still breathing, still pushing against the weight of it all. I laugh, sometimes. It’s not always pretty, but it’s real. The kind of laugh that shakes off the past, the kind that says, “I’m here. Still.” I am the fight, and I’ll keep moving, even if the path is rough, even if I’m still learning how to hold the pieces together. Because I know now - The cracks don’t define me. They just show where I’ve been, and where I'm going.