NEPHART.COM

I have noticed something.
Most people never realise
that I can break again…
and still keep walking.

Maybe that’s why
even after they’ve shattered once,
they drift around
searching for the next crack,
the next fall,
as if collapsing is the only language
they know how to speak.

And this heart of mine,
still splitting in slow motion,
keeps asking me,
“What do I tell myself now?”

So I answer:

Every fragment I’ve ever become
held a soul inside it.
A presence.
Someone or something
that completed that moment
exactly as it was meant to be.

Like a puzzle
that pretends to be chaos
until one day it doesn’t.

And the truth is,
I’m a puzzle too.
Not the easy kind.
Not the kind with a picture on the box.

Just pieces.
Just silence.
Just the slow discovery
of what fits where.

And when life turns you
into your own riddle,
you stop hunting for answers
outside your skin.

You start stepping out
from the inside.
Piece by piece,
clearer than yesterday.

This is how I rise:
not by pretending I never broke,
but by realizing
I was never ruined.
Only rearranged.

And I walk ahead.
I carry whatever pieces stay.
Even unfinished, I am still becoming.
I am becoming the whole thing I was meant to be.