Broken.

For those of you who know me (Like in real life), this is extremely important. For those of you who don't, treat it as advice.

I've always been kinda sorta broken. For 19 years, a good portion of my life (like 95%), I've always felt alone, tired, broken. And For 19 years, I've never once talked about my sad life, my depressive, broken, negative, pessimistic side. Everyday, I wake up, "being me", joking and funny and cheerful and all. And that's what I show everyone and that's "being me". Even my own (ex) girlfriend thought me out to be this happy-go-lucky person. But truth is, I was long broken before anyone knew it. I was that broken, rusty toy that was on the highest part of the shelf and only the time someone took me off the shelf, that person dropped it and I shattered. But truth is, I was already broken. It wasn't the person's fault. But everyone only saw the person drop it, no one saw an already broken toy, everyone saw the toy being broken. And now that person has to pay the price for something she didn't do.
I guess it was my fault, I should've said I was broken first, I should've said something about my sad side. Maybe then, she wouldn't have suffered. Maybe then, she wouldn't get so much shit.
It's not her fault. She didn't break me into so many pieces. She didn't take a screwdriver and took me apart. It was my fault for not showing broken in the first place. It's my fault for constantly showing one side of me. Because of that, people think I don't have a sad side to me.
It's like putting an iPhone 6 on the shelf, but what you don't see is that everything in it is the iPhone 4. But everyone who plays with it thinks it's playing with the iPhone 6. Then someone comes along and says, "Nope it's really the iPhone 4 inside" and everyone now blames that person for saying something that's quite impossible when it is the truth.
Say a lie long enough, and it becomes the truth. Hide the truth long enough, it becomes a lie.


She didn't break me into so many pieces. She merely had a slip of a hand.