I’m more than a victim. I’m a survivor. I’m a whole woman. I’m not broken even if smaller parts of me might be. I’m a fighter, and I will rebuild myself no matter how long it takes or how uncomfortable it makes me feel. When a vase shatters and you try to put the broken pieces back together, they never fit again. Not perfectly. Not in the way they used to. There may be cracks in the new vase, but it’s thanks to those fissures that sunlight filters through. Life thrives under its glow, grows through the cracks, and blooms anew. I guess that makes me a broken vase, but I couldn’t be prouder of
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