I've always wanted to be strong, but every time I look, I'm just weak. I've been broken down and battered, and they said scars made you strong, but what happens if wounds never heal? They said you're strong if you can stand back up, but what if the only reason I get up is because I'm afraid of staying down? I let others in more than I want, and less than I should. Life's beautiful, and broken, and based on nothing but whispers of truth in the night and the hope of someone to catch your tears.
I've never been my own; every piece of me belongs to someone else. Pieces of my heart and soul fly out and attach themselves to others. The countless hours of conversation, of friendship and love. I've never thought my life was worth much, but it's a story of all of the effort that others have put into me, and it would be a waste to throw it away.
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