Wrecked.

Broken.  Shameful.  Fearful.  Hurtful.  Hurting.  I am all these things and worse.

Redone, undone, I'm done, I'm gone, I'm out of the race, but here you've put me at the finish line.

Why?

Because no amount of my troubles can reverse who I'm made to be.  But can "whole" really be me?  Who am I, if I'm not wrecked?  Who am I if I'm not cracked?  If I'm not bruised or smashed, chipped or dashed against the wall, then am I nothing?  Am I really something?

I'm not nothing.

I was made to be something.

I was made to be something ELSE, something great, something beautiful!

So where is the person I'm supposed to be?

She's hidden behind the mask who is me.

She's hidden, not because she's scared, but because I'm scared of who she is.  She is bright, she is new, she is WHOLE, and wholly unlike me.  I'm afraid of her, because how could I be bright when all I see is dark?  How could I be strong when all I've ever known is weakness?

But here I am at the finish line.

Because I am not who I think I am.

I am not wrecked.

I am renewed.

This poem is about: 
Me

Comments

Need to talk?

If you ever need help or support, we trust CrisisTextline.org for people dealing with depression. Text HOME to 741741