Invisible, Broken, Whole

There are so many things that make me who I am, There are so many things that make everyone who they are. You can never know a person completely, not ever, because you don’t live every moment of their lives with them. This thought, this fact, it can be scary but when you think about it—it’s simply reality and there’s nothing about reality to be afraid of.

There are a lot of people I care about, a lot of people that I love and half the people I love don’t know anything at all about the other half. How can my life, my world, be so separate sometimes? All the time really? The thing is though it doesn’t matter. The serparateness might hurt me, it might break my heart and confuse me, but the thing is, it doesn’t matter. Since all I really care about is that everyone in my life, wherever they may be, knows that I love them, that I care about them, that they made me smile once and for that, to me, they are a good person.

It’s hard to remember that sometimes, but if someone gives me one good moment, I owe them that in return and sometimes, really all I need to remember is that we’re all people. We all have separate invisible worlds. We’re all broken and we’re all relying on each other to make us whole.

 

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