The letter you will never read… Also known as the letter you will read and wonder if you are the ‘you’ …but maybe, you are the ‘I’ too.

I want to scream at you, to make it be all your fault, but really, I am mad at myself. This has nothing to do with you. I know this. But I still want to scream at you.

In my mind, I am smashing things, everything. Jars, plates, cups. Everything that can break. Everything that is as fragile and delicate as I feel. I am watching it all shatter on the floor and shoot out in all directions, shards of glass skittering underneath the stove, behind the refrigerator, in all the places the broom can’t reach. Seeing the floor covered in fragments of things I used to recognize, I think that this is how my heart feels.

And when I’m done smashing things, I still want to scream. I want to scream you away, to tell you how horrible you are, how you are exactly like all of them, how you’ve mistreated me.

But when I open my mouth, I scream: I WANT YOU TO HOLD ME! WHY CANT YOU JUST HOLD ME?!

Me. Standing as an island. Surrounded by an ocean of broken pottery waves and salty tears made of glass. Yes, I see the irony. Come. Hold me. Please. just hold me. Here, let me clear you a path… I’d ask you to make me some tea, but I just broke all the cups.


2 thoughts on “Broken

  1. You mesmerize me. These words, this story, is poetry, is real, is life, is terrible, is just how we all have felt. Thank you Stephanie.

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