falling apart to fall into place...
In our lives there come moments that we can't control; it starts to rain right when we finish work, or our phone drops and the glass faceplate shatters into tiny little shards. These problems, they fall under the #firstworldproblems or #whiteboyproblems category. They don't shift our path in life, they're a splash of sauce on our sweater, that we take off and throw in the wash.
Then there are other more life changing events, ones that tear at your layers. A 2am phone call, a holiday gone sour, a trip into the guard rail of a country road, and a dignosis one would never expect; like a knife cutting through multiple layers of clothing, right down to our bare skin, flesh exposed, wounds dripping. #impairedaccidentkills2, #cancerwinsagain, #shakeitoff.
Some of these wounds will heal in time, leaving nothing but a memory of the pain. Others even over time, leave long, rough scars, a smear of fleshy tones that won't ever go away, that we have to live with every day for the rest of our lives.
We can try to put on clothing to cover up what has happened, living our lives, moving forward with a facade. Eventually, when you let people in, past that disguise, they will have to decide if they like what is underneath it all. Do they stay or do they go? Is it a case of #NMFP?
Sometimes, someone comes along, that can look past the scars, the tremors and the crazy and still think #ivefoundakeeper
The ones that put us to bed, do what's best for us even against our own will be the ones that help put everything back together again. #goingthroughchanges
When we have fallen apart, we need to remember the world has a way of presenting itself. Don't sit back and let people pass you by, because you might just miss the right person falling into place...
