Splintered

 

She became her..

 

She didn't like people. But craved to talk to them.

She pleased them, praised them, compromised for them.

Felt guilty every time for asking things for herself.

She had a voice, beautiful yet couldn't speak for herself.

 

She loved them all, that love made her vulnerable.

That love broke her to tears every night, as she cried in silence. Silence was all she had, or what she thought she did.

Vulnerability, overthinking, and constant need for assurance got the best of her.

She cared a lot for what people thought. Not people in general but the people that she loved.

 

Slowly she started writing down her thoughts, analyzing and overanalyzing, as it was one of her expertise.

She couldn't find the reasons why she was the unpleasant one. She searched for her mistakes, only to find that it was never her fault.

 

The realization struck hard; the renaissance began.

Small steps she took, as she acknowledged herself again.

 

The image in the mirror that she hated, became her best friend.

She read her thoughts more rationally now, putting an end to those toxic trends.

Asking for what she wanted, voicing her feelings, made her stronger, better.

She loved what she was becoming, her best self.

 

Looking back she did regret for wasting her time and tears on people. Although now she feels contented on how she fought them over.

Her past wrecked her, shattered her to millions of pieces.

With patience she collected them all, gently gluing them. Now she wears those scars like jewelry of her own ethnic kind.

 

She is brave with her tender heart.

She is stronger than Da Vinci’s art.

 

~Maria Noronha, SYBA