We are not meant to stay broken

I started laying the bricks back in September, by the time March came around they were stacked up pretty high. Mountainous walls with holes peaking through from the haphazard construction, I deemed my walls complete mid April and sat alone. There I waited for minutes that quickly turned into hours than days, weeks and months. I sat idle bathing in my own self-guilt and pity encased in walls that we’re built from frustration but more so fear. The wise man had warned me several months earlier that even with the cards we are dealt, they should be played with dignity by not sulking in our dissatisfaction of life’s unpredictability but rather to enjoy the romance of the unpredictable.


Of course as stubborn as I am, I took his advice with a bucket of salt and went on my way succumbing to an idea that I had to do it all. The instant the gates opened, the foundation I had come to embrace was nothing more than my own cage that would hold me captive, and I became very much aware that I was a prisoner of my own thoughts. But for some reason I hesitated to let go and move on because to do that would mean to start over from a place where the familiar would become an obscurity.


After several nights of restlessness I stood up and began to hit the walls with my bare fist. I narrowed in on a spot where I had left a large gap, “One, two, three,” I shouted as my fist challenged the strength of the bricks. For a few minutes I felt no pain, I was mentally and emotionally numb so I put all my weight into the last punch and I began to feel a sharp sensation deep in my wrist. I looked down and my arm was drenched in blood. Despite, the pieces of skin and blood that I left on the bricks, I proved to be no opponent for the monster I had created.


Exhausted, in pain and broken I retreated to the ground and entertained the various thoughts that mesmerized my mind until I fell victim to sleep. While entranced throughout that night, the wise man appeared reiterating his words. There he stood over me as I sat on an empty road with a barren desert swallowing the vast space I was surrounded with, “I know that you are in a rush to find the place where you are meant to go,” he paused and I stared at him as we embraced this brief moment of silence, “that direction, that place comes when it needs to, no need to push or force something upon yourself. We are fragile, we are delicate and we break very easily—no need to break yourself…as this society has its way of doing that for us. There is no point in punishing yourself through self-exile. Don’t let your inabilities interfere what with your abilities and don’t blind yourself with thoughts of your past misfortunes. “ I looked down at the road and than into the distance, he said something but I couldn’t distinguish the words as he was speaking above a murmur, as I turned my head around I asked him to repeat himself, he was gone. I stood up and a slight breeze picked up and followed me as I made my way down the road.


The next morning I awoke to a stinging pain in my wrist, blood encrusted knuckles and the words the wise man had imparted. “AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!” I yelled until no more sound would come out. Tears began to blur my vision, as they reached their tipping point they gradually made their way down my cheeks. I stood up, vulnerable, broken but renewed and began to scale up the walls of my cocoon. Pushing through the pain that emanated from my wrist, I climbed to the top and placed the hand through the only opening and allowed my hand to embrace the sun. I pulled my entire body through and sat at the top of my mountainous wall and allowed the tears to flow freely. Much like the evenings dream, the breeze picked up and spoke in a low murmur, “We are meant to falter, we are meant to break but we are not meant to stay broken.” I opened my eyes and looked at the sun and the vast open land of opportunity that was left for me to explore.