Sitting on the floor in my bedroom, I’m staring at a pile of broken glass. It’s mocking me and taunting me.

“This is your life!”

It’s echoing over and over in my mind. Why, oh why is metaphor the language of my heart?

Failure has been my constant companion today, and this mess I’ve made is only the cherry on top. I am covered in microscopic shards that formerly belonged to the mirror that hung on my wall.

My reflection isn’t the same anymore. Sadly, this was true before the cracks gave way to the chunks of glass that now surround me.

I’m looking for something that can not be found. A version of myself that no longer exists. I have entered a crisis of identity, and I don’t know how to escape.

How does one function when their life has been irreparably changed? How can I wake up day after day in this new reality as a single person when I have never been single before? How do I live a ‘normal’ life when I don’t even know who I am now? There is nothing to identify me. No title, no name, no status. How can I find myself here?

I need my Jesus. I need him to take me away from this place. I can’t stand to be here anymore.


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