Broken

My life is broken. Ripped, torn, shredded with my emotions pouring out. I know many people with broken lives, fissures of pain that cut through their feelings and lives. But I believe brokeness is good. It allows space for grace and mercy and love and compassion. To be unbroken means to be closed like a fist and unable to accept the daily gifts that life gives to each of us.

Down

I am a worthless piece of shit. I should be dead. I am alone. I am a mistake that should be erased, rubbed out, obliterated. I believe that I have no one. I don't deserve life. This doesn't feel like a medication issue; it's reality. I hate myself and I don't feel any compassion for myself. I want to smash myself and disappear.