#put back together

[ladydeathblackheart]

flip the script

exposed, like a raw nerve you hold me in your hands

naked, the way I feel I am emotionally with you because you see all

broken, the fact of the matter of what and who I am.

she whispers to me softly,

"good can come from broken my love, my heart"

broken, but redeemable

naked, but safe with her

exposed, but only she can see my soul

[howifeltabouthim]

And here is the tabernacle reconstructed.

Richard Siken, from Crush

[breakupblog]

Day 9

The grief flavor of the last couple days is starting to turn towards anger.. towards myself, towards him, towards everyone trying to be supportive.

The what ifs are killing me.

I've been watching The Office. The episodes where Pam and Jim are fighting and struggling and go through couples counseling and end up ok. They end up working things out. And I'm just like, maybe that could have been us.

The questions pester me. What if we had gotten into counseling, what if we had tried some kind of something to make our communication better..

And it kills me.

I hate him.. I want to hate him. Because I didn't want this..

I had been saying I couldn't do this anymore. I was getting more and more depressed and withdrawn. I didn't want to live anymore. The way things had been, had been unsustainable, and I had said that, over and over again.

I had gone to stay with my parents for a few days. I came back crying. I had planned on breaking up, but I wasn't sure I could do it. I ended up hiding in our room for a moment. When I finally went down to talk to him I was crying again. I wouldn't let him hug me. I told him I loved him, that I would always love and care about him. And that this wasn't working.

He left. He walked out. He didn't even try...

He didn't say anything.

He hadn't said anything. I was crying myself to sleep and he didn't do or say anything. I was hiding in the room more and more and he didn't do or say anything.

I had packed up most of my stuff, and hid it in the closet, my side of the room went at least half empty over the course of a week or two. And he had nothing to say.

I'm broken. I feel broken. He BROKE me. He BROKE my heart..

I broke me.. I broke my heart.

I don't know how to undo this.

There is no undoing, there's just getting through it and moving on. Or something.

But right now, I just feel like the pieces are too broken. The pieces of me. Whatever I'm able to do with them, however I can put them back together, will be unrecognizable from what I was before...

And maybe that's not a bad thing, but, man it hurts...

[pleasemarrymetomholland]

broken hearts

hearts may break but the pieces are still there.

they’re shattered, lying on the floor, just waiting to be picked up and put back together again.

[holyfuckthisfishcandrive]

How come I can make playlists for pretty much all my fics except my baby, my child, my fucking cinnamon apple, Put back together??? Like, what are its vibes??? Help?

[holyfuckthisfishcandrive]

I’ve written out the next chapter of Pbt but my beta reader is busy so I have to wait to post it...

[poetry-of-the-damned-666]

"It didn't matter that she fell apart, it was how she put herself back together."

~Atticus

[biggshandyman-blog]

Moving a cubicle from one part of the room to another, the power supply was over there.