For a while I thought I finally found myself. Foolishly, I've poured all my time and effort into understanding that part of me.
Yet, that isn't me. That was just a faint imprint of who I was.
I knew it couldn't be that simple.
Though I must wonder.... what would be merited from rescuing myself from the snares of being lost? What if that brings upon more pain than actual relief?
What if who I am doesn't want to know?
Broken glass should never be touched without the proper precautions. A gloved hand to caress those jagged edges.
I must find myself through another. An extension of myself.
Shattered pieces... so sharp and so untouchable.
They're best left in the bin. Forgotten and void of any hope of being repaired.
Wounds heal, but they leave scars. Memories...
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