It’s Friday. Where hundreds of writers come together every week over at the lovely Lisa-Jo Baker’s blog to spend five minutes writing about one thing. One word. No hyper-editing. No getting in your own way. Just writing, flat out. Won’t you join us?
Today’s prompt: Broken
I thought I could mend myself. I would stop chasing the wrong boy. I would watch my mouth. The dripping sarcasm and the cussing and the cutting words.
Maybe some prozac would help that deep aching, the longing for something I couldn’t even explain. Couldn’t grasp it. So deep.
Little did I realize a pill may be able to trick my brain but it couldn’t fill my heart. Was there a medicine for that? If there was, I was determined to find it.
I tried so hard to be better. I cleaned my house until it was sparkling clean and you could literally eat off our kitchen floor.
Why was I so tired all the time? I could barely drag myself out of bed. Was there a pill that would help me sleep at night?
I longed to feel complete. I had to fix it. That pain. What was it?
It suddenly hit me one day. I was standing at the kitchen sink scrubbing a bowl with scalding hot water and the caked on mess just wouldn’t come off. I scrubbed harder. The stain resisted.
I would never be good enough. I felt as though I was standing at the edge of a cliff and as I looked out ever the horizon, trying to discern the faintest hint of the sun, I couldn’t see anything. A moving skyline shifting in an opaque haze, my eyes tried to focus on something, anything, but fog was too obscuring.
Closing my eyes, I fell forward. I didn’t know what would happen next. But as my body relaxed, I felt hands close in around me, lifting me up. I opened my eyes to see a beautiful sunrise, colors bursting into life all around me. No, I was not broken anymore. I was His.