Pressures of life got to my dear, dear friend and one day, she simply cracked. Just like that. Like a branch under too much pressure, her mind shattered.
And there she was, scattered in a million pieces, trying so hard to gather them all back together, but finding herself unable to hold them, not knowing where they fit, lost in her own world, seeking to make sense of it all.
Frustrated, scared and trapped in a web of uncontrolled thoughts, wanting so much to be understood and yet building walls of silence all around her.
Not letting anyone in.
Desperately seeking to put her mind back in its appropriate corner.
Trying to fix the whole world in the process.
Misplaced in the maze of her wounded self.
Lost in an unfamiliar world.
Oh how I love her.
“What’s your name, dear friend?”
“Oh,” I say.
“Why do you ask?” she looks at me.
“Well, it seems to me maybe you’ve got it mixed up.”
“What do you mean?”
“It looks to me by the way you act that maybe you think your name is God and you have to hold it all together.”
“But your name isn’t God, is it?”
“Well, maybe, since your name is not God, you could let go.”
Her gaze intensifies.
“And maybe it’s be ok to just be who you are, and let yourself heal.”
She attempts to smile. It comes out crooked, but it is genuine.
And with that, she begins her recovery.